


Of Sons and Daughters

by writehavoc



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur gets the life he deserves, Canon Divergent, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Loss of Virginity, Minor Angst, Minor Spoilers, Minor Violence, Romance, innocent oc, no major spoilers, not canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2019-10-18 10:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writehavoc/pseuds/writehavoc
Summary: Arthur is tasked by Dutch to watch over a young woman who had just lost the last member of her family she had left. That young woman just so happens to be the daughter that Dutch told no one else about.





	1. Chapter 1

_ Dearest Dutch, _

 

_ I pray this letter meets you well, though by the time you receive this, I will likely be gone. The doctor tells me I have but weeks to live. _

_ I have spent near as much time cursing the day I met you as I have thanking the lucky stars you crossed my path. For if it weren’t for you, I never would have been blessed with my sweet girl Emmeline. But if it weren’t for the way you live your life, I could have raised her more proper and sent her to school. If it weren’t for the enemies you’ve made, I wouldn’t have been afraid to let her out of my sight and maybe she would have a husband of her own. A life of her own.  _

_ She resembled you so much in her youth, I was afraid a member of one of your competing gangs or even the police would notice and take her away from me. It caused me to keep her home more than I should have. Coddle her more than I should have. I’m afraid that has left her too naive for this world and I fear what may happen to her because of my actions. She ain’t simple by no means. No, she was blessed with your brain, but I fear I’ve kept her acting too young for her years. She should be having children of her own, but I’m afraid she’s more like one herself. _

_ That is why I’m writing you. Just like we agreed, I never told her about you, but I think you may be the only one that can help her now. As much as I hate to put her close to you and your dealings, I’m so frightened that she will end up on the streets or in the hands of even worse men than you. Being used and taken advantage of. She is not taking my illness well as it is, so I fear what she may be like when I’m gone. I fear, through her grief, she will make a mistake and let the wrong people into her life, thinking they will help her, but they would surely only hurt her. _

_ All I ask is that you check in on her and make sure she’s safe. Make sure she’s eating enough and taking care of herself. Make sure the people around her are good. I will leave it up to your discretion to tell her of her true parentage. Though I will remind you that Joseph Turner was the best father for Emmeline I could ever ask for, even though he knew she weren’t his. Emma has nothing but love for that man and his death is still a sore spot for her, though it’s years in the past. _

_ Despite all the bad things I know you’ve done, I think you have a good streak in you, Dutch Van Der Linde. I know it were you that left boxes on our doorstep with bits of money all those times. And all those postcards with addresses to send mail to just in case I needed you, though I never used them but once when Joseph died and now, of course. I know you always cared about Emma in your own way. You cared enough to keep her away from your life. _

_ She ain’t got nobody now, though. And that scares me more than her being with you. _

 

_ Yours truly, _

_ Alice Turner _

 

“Shit,” Dutch mutters under his breath as he folds the paper up and delicately places it back in its envelope. 

“Bad news, Dutch?” Arthur Morgan happened to walk by Dutch’s tent at that moment and noticed the leader’s sullen face.

Dutch looks up to his surrogate son, now standing in front of him, and scratches at the black stubble on his cheeks. “Of a sort,” he answers. “Why don’t you take a ride with me. We have something to discuss.”

Arthur nods and heads off to where his horse is hitched with all the others of the camp.

The Van Der Linde Gang wasn’t exactly well known in the area, but they weren’t entirely anonymous, either. They had set up camp outside a town called Blackwater in a clearing completely out of the way. This gave them the privacy they always enjoyed, while maintaining close enough proximity to the town to run their business, that being anything a little south of what’s lawful. A stagecoach robbery here, petty pickpocketing there, some holdups in between, whatever filled their coffers. 

Both Arthur and Dutch mount their horses and set off with Dutch in the lead on his white Arabian named The Count.

“Where we headed?” Arthur calls out, spurring his own rose grey Andalusian called Sparrow to come up beside Dutch.

“Some place quiet,” he answers tersely.

After a few hours, they come upon a cliff overlooking the sparse heartlands. Both men dismount and Dutch walks over to the lone large oak tree sitting among lush grass and various wild flowers, leaning on it as he surveys the land below him.

Arthur walks toward the older man with some trepidation. “What’s goin’ on, Dutch?”

Dutch doesn’t turn back, but pulls a cigar from his pocket and lights it, taking a long drag. He lets the smoke swirl around him before finally answering. “I need you to do something for me, son.”

“Of course,” Arthur replies without thought, always loyal to the man that he had come to see as a father.

Dutch turns to face him. “What I’m about to tell you, no one else on this earth knows. Not even Hosea.”

Arthur nods, his anxiety building at what Dutch could possibly tell him. “You know I won’t tell no one.”

“That’s why I’m entrusting you with this.” He takes another drag on his cigar before continuing. “Twenty years ago- Well, twenty two,” he corrects, “we ran through this area for a time, me and Hosea. It was a couple years before you came to us.”

Arthur scratches at his chin and nods, waiting for him to continue.

“Off that way,” Dutch gestures off to the east, “There’s a place called Emerald Ranch. I happened across a farm girl named Alice. Beautiful woman with fiery red hair. She was nice enough to invite me into her bed on multiple occasions.”

Arthur scrunches up his face. “I don’t wanna hear this, Dutch.”

He continues without acknowledging Arthur’s distaste for the subject matter. “She fell pregnant.”

Arthur’s expression turns more serious at that.

“She had a little girl,” Dutch continues. “Emmeline.” He lets the news sink in as he takes a drag off his cigar.

Arthur is stunned for a moment before he shakes his head, as if that could make everything make sense. “You got a daughter?!”

Dutch nods and lets out a sigh. He needs to tell Arthur the whole story. “Alice... She was a nice girl, but she weren’t stupid. She knew what I was. Saw right through the bullshit I was spitting at her. But she still decided to lay with me anyway.” He lets out a chuckle at the memory. “She had a wild streak, that one. I saw her a few times over some months. The last one being the time she told me she was with child.” He pushes himself off of the tree and faces Arthur fully. “She had found a man. A good man named Joseph Turner. He was a farm hand that worked for her father. He knew she was in a delicate way, but it didn’t matter. He was to marry Alice and raise the baby as his own in a little farmhouse they found outside of Valentine. The three of us agreed not to tell the child about me. We agreed I wouldn’t come around.”

Arthur furrows his brows at all this information, but he keeps quiet, letting the man finish what he had to say.

“I made sure to leave Alice ways to get ahold of me in case something happened. About ten years ago, she wrote a letter saying Jospeh got thrown by a horse and succumbed to his injuries. After that, I would try to make it out this way every few months to leave them money in the night. Never said it were from me.” 

Arthur nods. He had noticed the times Dutch would leave without saying exactly what he was doing, but never said anything.

Dutch throws his spent cigar to the ground and stomps it out. “Alice sent a letter saying she was on her deathbed. I’m sure she’s gone now as the letter was months old by the time I got it.” He shakes his head as he looks down. “She was a good woman.”

Arthur waits for Dutch to say more, but he seems lost in thought. “Are you headed out to Valentine to pay your respects?” he asks, not sure why Dutch is telling him all this.

The older man looks up to Arthur. “I need you to head out that way to look after the girl.”

“The girl? You mean your  _ daughter _ ?”

“Yes.”

“Why me?”

“Because I trust you.”

“No. I mean, why not  _ you _ ?”

Dutch shakes his head. “I’m needed at the camp.”

“I’m not?”

Dutch lays his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Of course you are, son. But, we’re in a good place right now. Everyone’s fed and clothed for the time being. I can tell everyone you’re off on an errand for me. But if  _ I _ go missing for a while, people will talk.” He shakes his head. “The girl’s better off not knowing about me, anyway. It’ll only be temporary. A few weeks, maybe a month then you can come back home.”

“I ain’t no nursemaid, Dutch.”

“I don’t mean that kinda lookin’ after. She’s a young woman, but...” He lets out a sigh. “She’s all alone now. And her mama sheltered her, apparently. According to her letter, the girl’s an innocent. I just want to make sure she’s on her feet.”

Arthur turns away and takes his hat off to run his fingers through his hair, trying to make sense of everything. “Why doesn’t Hosea know about all this?”

“I was young and stupid,” he says with a voice tinged with shame. “Me and him were just starting out together and I knew he’d look down on me for leaving Alice and the child behind. You know he still would now if he knew.”

“Can’t the women go out and take care of the girl?”

Dutch walks over to Arthur and places both hands on his shoulders. “I’m asking  _ you _ , son. I know you can look after her. And I know you can keep this  _ quiet _ . It’s safer for the girl that way. The less people know, the better.”

Arthur gives a little shrug of concession. “Alright, Dutch. I’ll go visit the girl.”

“Thank you, son.” Dutch pats the younger man on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Dutch draws Arthur a map to the house and gives him money enough for food and supplies.

“I’ll send Charles out if I need to reach you,” Dutch calls out as Arthur mounts Sparrow.

“And I’ll head back once the girl is doing good on her own.”

Dutch nods and moves back to lean against the tree as Arthur heads toward the path. It’s not a long ride to the farmhouse, so Arthur takes it slow, delaying his arrival time. 

He’s never been that good with women. Sure, he’s been a gentleman and he’s certainly laid with more than a few, but when it comes to  _ emotional _ women, he’s at a loss. Now he’s tasked with taking care of a woman fifteen years his junior that has just lost her mother.

What if she’s hysterical? Or what if she kicks him out? He is a complete stranger, after all. Then again, what if this Alice woman wrote the letter in haste and got over her illness. He might ride up to the house and see two happy women going about their days. 

God, he hopes that’s the case.

He finds the small farmhouse just fine, though there doesn’t seem to be anyone there.

“Hello?” he calls as he pushes the door open slightly. The house is lived in, but otherwise empty. He comes back out and walks around the building, seeing an open stable attached to the right side of the house. One beautiful female blood bay thoroughbred is hitched there. 

He slowly holds his hand out to see if she’s skittish. To his surprise, she puts her nose right to his hand and sniffs it. “You’re a friendly one, eh, girl.” He chuckles and rubs the horse on its nose.

“Who are you?” a sweet voice asks from Arthur’s right.

He turns away from the horse to see who he assumes is Emmeline. She doesn’t much look like Dutch, except for the jet black hair. She’s slight, about a foot shorther than Arthur and thin. Her skin is fair, but her cheeks are rosy and her eyes are puffy, signaling that she had been crying. Her dress is rather plain, but a faded light blue color that’s not unpleasant to the eye.

As a matter of fact, Arthur finds every part of the woman standing before him pleasing to the eye.

“You alright, Miss?” He comes forward closer to her. 

“I was just putting some flowers on my mother’s grave. She passed two weeks ago.” She looks down to try to hide how she swipes away a tear from her cheek.

Arthur sees it, though. “My condolences, Miss. My name is Arthur Morgan. Your mother sent a letter a while back to my boss Tacitus Kilgore and he sent me out here to check on you,” he fibs.

“Uncle Tacitus,” she chuckles slightly. “Never heard of such a man ‘til I saw his name on that envelope Mama had me send.”

“He’s real worried ‘bout ya.”

“That’s nice, I suppose.”

Arthur shifts his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Do ya need anything, Miss Emmeline?”

She shakes her head.

“I’m to stay with you for some time to make sure you’re alright.”

“Oh. Uncle Tacitus wants that?”

Arthur nods. “Yes, Miss Emmeline. Just until you get back on your feet.”

Emmeline had never lived with anyone but her parents, but she had also never lived alone before her mother had died. She found that she doesn’t rather like the quiet of the house with just her in it. 

“You can stay in mama’s room,” she replies. “I’ve washed all the linens, but they need put back on the bed.” She walks past Arthur to get to the front door.

Arthur is surprised she accepted all of that so easily. He’s a strange man and she’s allowing him into her home without question. “You get many visitors out here?” he asks and falls in step behind her, thinking that anyone could just talk her out of house and home. Among other things.

“No, sir. Can’t remember the last time anyone rode out this way.”

“You don’t have to call me sir.” He quickly walks around her to open the door for her.

She gives him a smile and walks past him into the house. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan.”

He tips his hat and follow her in. They walk into the kitchen area with a hearth on the back wall, counters to the left and a table with two chairs in the middle. Off to the right are two doors leading to the bedrooms.

“This will be yours.” She gestures to the left and they go in. She goes to a large cabinet and pulls out sheets and a blanket for the bed. 

As she makes the bed, Arthur watches her. “You got crops here?”

“Out back,” she answers. “Not a lot. Mostly just enough for my mother and me. But she would go into town and sell the extra for money.”

“You need help with that? The crops.”

She stands up straight after smoothing the blanket out. “Not yet. But if you don’t mind, since you’re here to help, and all, would you run into town for some of those oat cakes? Miss Susie just loves them and I’ve been plum out for a week.”

“Susie that horse out there?”

“ _ Miss _ Susie,” she corrects, though not in an overly serious manner. “She is a  _ lady _ , Mr. Morgan. And, yes, that is her in her stable.”

He chuckles at her. “Well, she’s a beauty. And I can get those oat cakes, but can I ask, why haven’t you gone into town to get them yourself?”

“Mama never let me go into town,” she answers quietly.

“Pardon me, but your mama ain’t here no more.”

She looks up at him for a moment. “That may be true, but it don’t make all those bad men she told me about any less dangerous.” She turns and starts to walk back into the kitchen.

“What bad men?” Arthur asks as he follows behind her.

“The bad men that live in towns. There’s criminals there, Mr. Morgan. A lot of them. They’d sooner slit your throat than say hello. I always worried so about my mama goin’ into town, but she said she knew how to handle them. And she always came back just fine.” She starts to look around in her cupboards, pulling out a few cans as she goes.

“I ain’t gonna lie, there are bad men here and there, but most of the time, people are alright.”

She turns around and gives him a look that seems like that’s the first time she had ever heard that. And true enough, it was. Her mother had always told her that the world was a much more dangerous place than it was to keep her from wanting to leave home.

“Maybe in some places you been, but not Valentine. Mama said it’s real bad there.”

“Ain’t that bad, if I’m bein’ honest,” he replies, not thinking of how the realization may affect the poor girl.

“Maybe not for a big strong man as yourself. People know to stay away from you,” she rationalizes. Surely her mother wouldn’t have lied.

Arthur finally sees what’s going on with her and drops the issue. “Course, Miss.” He nods one time.

She looks back to her cans. “Looks like I ain’t got much to make for supper. Mama always went to the butcher’s for the meat, and picked up some canned things from the store if our own stores were low. Which they are now. This is all I have left.” She gestures to the few cans on the counter. She had eaten through everything they had canned up, since the crops are not ready for harvest yet.

“I’ll go into Valentine and get some things.” He turns to walk to the door.

“Wait!” she calls out and opens a drawer in an end table by the door. She rummages around for the few coins she has in there. “I’ll give you money.”

He holds his hand up. “Ain’t no problem, Miss. I got money from Uncle Tacitus.”

She straightens up. “He sure is a generous man.”

Arthur doesn’t comment on that and tips his hat. He places his hand on the doorknob to open it.

“Wait!” she calls out again.

“Yes?” he turns back to her to see her approaching.

She gets up on her tippy toes and kisses his cheek. 

The contact has a warmth spreading from where her soft lips touched all the way into his chest.

“What was that for?” he asks, a little taken aback by the action.

“Just bidding you farewell,” she answers easily. “I always kissed my mama on the cheek before she left.”

He nods once and heads out the door with his head swimming. The girl is certainly strange, but he’s thinking that maybe he can make this work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emmeline and Arthur start to settle in together.

The sun is high in the sky as Arthur rides into Valentine and hitches Sparrow outside the general store. “That’s my good girl,” he says to the horse with a pat on her neck, then dismounts. He pushes the door open and walks into the store, the distressed floorboards creaking under his boots with each step. 

“Hello, sir. Haven’t seen you in a while,” the clerk behind the counter greets his new customer.

Arthur nods to the man then goes about his business of picking up the oat cakes for the horses as well as some fresh produce for dinner. As he’s checking out his items at the counter, a bag of candy catches his eye. He grabs it, as well as a chocolate bar.

“These, too,” he says to the clerk and places the items before him.

“Alright, then.” 

The clerk tallies the products and Arthur pulls out the money Dutch had given him to pay for it.

“Thank you, sir,” Arthur calls out as he leaves the building, the bell over the door jingling as he steps over the threshold.

Before leaving Valentine, Arthur stops off at the butcher’s stand to buy some meat. Normally, he’d just hunt the animals himself, but he doesn’t want to make Emmeline wait too long to eat. Especially given the scant amount of food she had left. She probably hasn’t been eating very properly for at least a few days.

Arthur traverses the winding trail to the house and dismounts Sparrow just outside the stable. He hadn’t introduced her to Emmeline’s horse, Miss Susie, earlier, so he takes the time to do it now. Since both horses are female, he doesn’t have to worry about any funny business, thankfully.

“You girls gonna get along?” he asks as he hitches Sparrow beside Miss Susie.

The horses sniff at each other for a moment, then duck their heads to pick at the hay beneath them. Arthur takes that to mean that they’re okay with being together and takes the food out of his saddlebag to carry inside.

When he gets to the front door, he pauses. Should he just go in? Or should he knock? He decides on the latter and lightly pounds on the door. “It’s Arthur,” he calls out for good measure.

Emmeline opens the door with a friendly smile on her face. “Come in,” she responds and steps aside. “You don’t have to knock, Mr. Morgan. This is your house, too, for as long as you’re here.”

He nods and steps inside to place the food on the counter. “Bought some beef for us. Some corn, too. Figure that’d make a good meal.”

She starts to sort through the stuff. “I went out and picked some herbs while you were gone to add some flavor.” She comes across the chocolate bar and raises it up to her face. “Chocolate...?” she reads from the label.

He raises his eyebrows. “You ain’t never had chocolate before?”

She shakes her head. “Don’t reckon I have. Mama never brought anything like this back from the store.”

Arthur takes the bar from her hands and rips the paper open then breaks off a bite. “We should wait ‘til after supper, but...” He shrugs a shoulder then hands the square of chocolate to her.

She takes it in her hand. “What’s it taste like?” she asks then sniffs it a little.

“Sweet,” he explains. “Just try it.”

She delicately puts the candy in her mouth and bites into it. “Oh!” She looks up to Arthur with a huge smile on her face. “This is good!”

He chuckles at her reaction and breaks off a bite for himself. He puts it in his mouth and swirls it around, allowing it to melt slowly.

“Can I have some more?” she asks sweetly. 

“After supper.”

“Okay.”

They cook up the food and sit down at the table to eat it. Emmeline had never had a house guest before, but she has read in books that polite conversation is appropriate at the dinner table.

“How old are you, Mr. Morgan?” she asks bluntly.

He finishes his bite and swallows before answering. “Guess I’m thirty five, there abouts.” He takes another bite.

“I’m twenty one,” she responds, figuring the polite thing to do would be to provide the same information she asked. “Are you leaving behind your own home to visit with me?” 

“Not really,” he starts with a mouthful. He swallows before continuing. “Not a house, anyway. I live in a camp with a bunch of people.”

“A camp? That sounds adventurous!”

He chuckles. “I s’pose.”

“Are those people your family? Do you have a wife and children?”

“No wife or children of mine. But they  _ are _ my family. We live as a family. Take care of each other and make sure we’re all safe.” He takes a bite.

“That sounds nice.” She gives him a smile. “How did you meet Uncle Tacitus?”

He swallows awkwardly and lets out a cough. “Uncle Tacitus?”

She nods.

Hosea taught him the best lies always have a grain of truth, so that’s what he goes with. “My parents both died when I was pretty young. I was living on the streets, pretty much bound for the gallows for stealing. But two men named Dutch and Hosea took me in and raised me from there. They, uh... work for your uncle Tacitus, so... That’s how I met him.”

“So what do you do for Uncle Tacitus?”

“Uh... Well.” He clears his throat and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I do a little of everything, I s’pose. That camp I live in... We all work for your uncle Tacitus doing this and that, here and there. Each one of us provides in our own way.”

She accepts the lie. “Oh my. It seems like like Uncle Tacitus and your camp are very noble people.”

He chuckles a little. “I don’t know about all that.”

“Anyone that would take in a poor orphaned boy is surely a noble man.” She smiles at him again. “And so is any man that would look after a poor woman such as myself.”

Arthur feels a bush creep up his cheeks at the praise. “Aw, I ain’t a noble man, Miss Emmeline. You don’t know me very well, yet.”

“That may be so, but I reckon when I get to know you, that opinion won’t change.”

Emmeline isn’t exactly savvy about the world, so she takes Arthur at his word. To her, he’s just a generous man looking after her during her time of grief. She knows that she is ill prepared to live on her own now that her mother is gone, so Arthur’s presence is a godsend. The very last thing she would think is that “Uncle Tacitus” is just a code name and that Arthur and his “family” are a bunch of outlaws responsible for thefts and murders alike.

After dinner, they head off to their bedrooms to turn in for the night. Emmeline changes into her long nightshirt while Arthur opts to sleep naked. He gets under the blanket, but before he blows out his lantern, he pulls out his journal to recount his day.

 

_ Dutch tasked me with watching over his illegitimate daughter. Yes, Dutch has a daughter that apparently no one knows about but him. Especially now that the poor girl’s mother has passed. The girl herself don’t even know who her real father is. _

_ She is a strange one, that girl. Miss Emmeline. Her mama kept her too close to her apron strings and now she’s more child than adult. I don’t mean she’s an imbecile, or nothing. She seems smart enough, but she’s innocent. Naive. Quick to believe what she hears.  _

_ She thinks  _ _ I’m _ _ a noble man, if that tells you something.  _

_ I wasn’t real excited to come here, thinking that the girl would be hysterical in her grief. That ain’t the case though. When I came upon her, she said she was putting flowers on her mama’s grave. I could see she was crying, but she seemed fine after that. If this job ends up being me running errands for the girl into town, might not be so bad. More like a vacation from what I’d normally be doing. The area seems pretty enough, anyway. _

_ She don’t much look like Dutch. Though I guess it don’t make sense that girl’s mother would lie about Dutch being the father since she didn’t want him anywhere near the girl. Guess they made a pact of sorts that he’d stay away. Keep the girl away from the outlaw life. I don’t rightly know how sending me out here to watch over her keeps her away from all that, but I guess I’m doing more good than harm. For now, anyways.  _

_ I suppose Miss Emmeline got Dutch’s black hair, at least, since I guess the mother had red hair. Her eyes are blue like a clear sky in the summer, too, which she surely didn’t get from Dutch. I’m certain the girl favors her mother in the face. _

_ Her mother must’ve been a very beautiful woman. _

 

Arthur is interrupted by a soft whimpering coming from the room next door. After a few moments, it turns into sobs.

“Shit,” Arthur murmurs to himself and closes his journal. He had never been very good with emotional women. He always seemed to say the wrong thing, making a bad situation worse. 

As the sobbing continues, Arthur decides that he should probably at least  _ try _ to comfort the girl. He throws on his pants and a shirt and grabs his lantern to move out of his room to the next door over.

He knocks lightly on the door and softly calls out, “Miss Emmeline?” He pushes the door open slightly.

Emmeline sits up in her bed with a sniffle and wipes her cheeks. “Yes, Mr. Morgan?” Her voice is raspy and choked.

“You alright in here?” He peeks his head in the room and holds the lantern up to get a look at her. 

“Would you sit with me for a bit?” She looks up at him with the sweetest of faces and he can’t bare to say no. 

“Uh. Okay, Miss Emmeline. If you want.” He walks further into the room and sets the lantern on her nightstand. 

Emmeline scoots over to allow Arthur the room to sit to her right. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

She swallows hard, trying to clear the lump from her throat. “I guess I’m just missing Mama.” She sniffles and tries to hold back her tears. 

“I know you was close with her.”

She nods then leans into the man next to her and wraps her arms around his torso. “Why did the lord have to take her?” she asks as her tears start to flow. “I need her here.”

Arthur is frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. He had thought that Emmeline was taking her grief in stride, but it seems she’s still deeply hurt by her loss. He tentatively puts his arm around the girl and pats her shoulder. 

“It’ll be alright, miss,” he tries. “There, there.”

She squeezes him further. “I don’t want to be without her. What will I do?”

“I know,” he coos in his deep voice as he relaxes some in her arms. “I know she did a lot for you.”

“She did everything. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

He starts to rub her back. “I can teach ya some things. Teach you how to take care of yourself so you won’t be afraid to go into town.”

Emmeline straightens up to look at him. “You would do that?” She wipes the tears from her cheeks. 

“That’s what I’m here for, right? I gotta get you on your feet.” He lets out a short “oof” as Emmeline hugs him tight again. 

“Thank you Mr. Morgan,” she says into his chest. 

“You’re welcome, Miss Emmeline.”

She pulls back to smile at him. 

“You gonna be okay?”

She nods. “I think so.”

“Okay.” Arthur starts to stand from the bed. “Goodnight, Miss Emmeline.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Morgan.”

The next day, Emmeline decides to wash some clothes since it is a rather warm day. She finds Arthur out back chopping firewood, his suspenders pulled down and his shirt sleeves pushed up his forearms. 

“Hello, Mr. Morgan,” she greets with a smile. She doesn’t have any experience with men, but she must admit that this man before her is certainly a prime example of manhood, all broad shoulders and a gruff voice. Not that she has much to compare him to really.

He brings the axe down on the log, splitting it in two, then straightens up to face her. “Hello, Miss Emmeline.”

“I was going to wash some clothes in the creek,” she points to the flowing water a short ways away, “and wondered if you needed anything washed.”

He wipes at his brow. “You don’t have to do that.” He bends back down to put a log on the stump.

“I want to. Besides, it’ll get me outta this heat and into the cool water.” She gives him a smile. 

“If you’re offerin’, I think most of the clothes I brought with me could stand a wash. But you ain’t gotta do them all. Just pick out what you wanna wash.”

“Okay.” She turns to leave, but pauses and turns back. “Thank you for making me feel better last night.”

He gets a little bashful and looks away. “Aw, I didn’t do much.”

“Well, it helped all the same.” 

She heads back to the house to gather all the dirty clothes in a basket with the washboard and the soap. The spot she usually washes the clothes has a little bank, but it drops off steeply to about waist deep. She also chooses this area to bathe herself when the weather is warm enough. 

From where Arthur is still cutting wood, he can see Emmeline perfectly as she carries everything to the creek. She starts to remove her blouse then her skirt, leaving her in just her underclothes consisting of a light fabric combination*, the legs of which are lightly frilled and cut just below the knee. The top of it is sleeveless with a scoop neck adorned with ribbon. 

Arthur quickly averts his gaze, not wanting to spy on her in her state of undress. 

Emmeline hadn’t even thought about Arthur. She was simply doing what she always did in the summer by stripping down to cool off as she did the wash. 

She gets to work scrubbing the clothes. She had grabbed all of Arthur’s clothing despite his protestations and since they are the most stained, she does them first. The cool water of the stream feels refreshing on her skin, so the work isn’t too bad. Though leaning over the washboard at the shore always does tire her back out. 

After washing a few garments, she stands up to stretch her back. She looks over and sees Arthur looking back at her, so she gives him a friendly wave. 

“Shit,” he mutters and awkwardly waves back, then looks away. He hadn’t meant to look at her again, but his eyes wandered all on their own. 

Emmeline is completely unaware of the fact that the wet fabric clinging to her skin is practically see through. She’s also unaware of how that may be affecting the man standing several yards away. 

Arthur gathers the wood he split and carries it into the house to pile next to the fireplace. He pours himself a glass of water and guzzles it all in one drink to try to cool himself down a little. When he sets the glass back down on the counter, he sees from the kitchen window Emmeline, still in her wet underclothes, starting to hang the clothing on the line outside. 

“Come on, old man,” he chides himself and turns away from the window. “She don’t want you looking at her.”

Outside, Emmeline finishes hanging the clothing and starts to wander the yard to dry off a little. She walks around to the horses and visits with them for a few minutes, then puts her shirt and skirt back on once she’s dry. 

Wanting to keep himself busy, Arthur decides to start dinner, since it’s about time, anyway. When Emmeline comes back inside, she finds him at the fireplace cooking meat. 

“Mr. Morgan,” she greets cheerfully as she comes in. 

“Miss Emmeline.” He doesn’t look up at her. 

“If you’re hot, Mr. Morgan, the creek is quite refreshing,” she suggests. 

“I’m fine.”

“Or if you want to wash up. That spot I was at is deep enough to dunk your head if you bend down.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He finishes the food and the pair sit down for supper.

Emmeline notices that Arthur is a little more quiet than usual, so she doesn’t press for conversation as they eat. It feels a little awkward to her, but she’s not sure how to remedy it.

After dinner, they both stay in the main room, seated at the table, Emmeline with a book and Arthur with his journal. He had set out to write an entry, but finds himself sketching what he saw today.

He drags the pencil down the page depicting the long line of her body as she stretched by the water, her arms held above her head and back arched. The wet fabric clung to her skin, the shining sun making it sheer enough to see the curve of her bosom. He traces his pencil over the swell of her breasts, perhaps spending more time than necessary to get it right.

Emmeline watches Arthur as he seems completely in concentration. His bottom lip is gently placed between his teeth and his brow furrows as he brings his pencil to the paper. The position of the book in his hands obscures Emmeline’s view, so she doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. The curiosity starts to get the better of her the longer she watches him.

“Are you a novelist?” she asks, but he doesn’t hear her, his attention fully on his work. She clears her throat and tries again. “Mr. Morgan?”

He snaps his head up. “What?”

She points to his journal. “Are you a novelist? You sure are concentrating on what you’re writing.”

He closes the book and sets it in his lap. “I ain’t no writer, miss. It’s my journal.” He shakes his head. “A silly thing to keep, I s’pose.”

“It’s not silly. My father kept a journal. He said it helped him make sense of what was going on around him. He gave me a journal when I was kid, though I never used it as such. I like to write stories, though.”

“Are  _ you _ a novelist, Miss Emmeline?” he says back with a smile on his face.

She laughs. “No, no, Mr. Morgan. I’m not good enough for that. I just scribble down little things that come to my head.”

“Read me one and I’ll be the judge of how good it is.”

Her cheeks start to turn read at the thought and she turns bashful. “I don’t know. I’d be afraid you’d think it was awful. I ain’t never read any of my stories for nobody. ‘Cept my mama.” She looks up to him and he’s still looking at her with a gentle face. “Okay,” she decides hesitantly and goes into her room to retrieve her notebook, which is leather bound and similar to Arthur’s. 

She sits back down across from him and lets out a heavy breath. “I’ll try to pick one you might like.” She flips through the pages. “Mama used to bring home newspapers when she would go into town and I read an article about a train robbery once.” She clears her throat and starts to read her story about a young woman caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, a train that is slated to be robbed by a gang of outlaws. A firefight ensues and the woman is shot. One of the outlaws, a handsome young man, takes pity and and takes the girl from the train to nurse her back to health. The two of them fall in love and she convinces the outlaw to leave his gang and turn his attentions away from holding up innocent people to taking down the corrupt elite.

She finishes and looks up to Arthur. “I, uh, have a few more parts of their exploits, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear them. I told you I wasn’t no good.”

“I liked it,” Arthur is quick to say. “Can’t say I’m a big reader, but I liked the story. And I like how you read it.” As she read, she would change her voice to whoever was talking, gruff for the outlaw, sweet for the young woman. Whenever there was action, she would read it more dramatically, as well. Arthur found it all entertaining. Not to mention he much enjoyed watching watching her face as she acted out the various parts.

“You did?” she asks.

“I’d very much like to hear the other parts.” He stands from the table. “But maybe another day. It’s pretty late.”

She stands up as well. “Yes, of course, Mr. Morgan,” she replies excitedly.

The pair part ways to go to their rooms, both of them with a smile on their face.

  
  


*a chemise and drawers combined into one garment, sort of like a jumpsuit or onesie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am enjoying writing for Arthur, so I hope you’re enjoying reading this!  
> Don’t be shy to give me a comment. I love reading them and knowing what you guys are thinking.   
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur takes Emmeline into town.

With Emmeline and Arthur getting closer over the days they’ve spent together, Arthur decides to treat her a little bit.

“You wanna go for a ride with me?” Arthur asks as they eat breakfast early in the morning.

“A ride? Where to?”

“Don’t know. Anywhere, I guess. You said you ain’t left this land since you was a kid. Ain’t ya bored of it?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Isn’t it dangerous out there?”

“Can be,” he answers. “But it ain’t so dangerous that you gotta stay cooped up here your whole life. ‘Sides, I ain’t gonna let anything happen to ya.”

She thinks it over. Her lips pull up to a smile as she comes to her decision. “I think I would enjoy going for a ride with you.”

“You got any pants to wear? I’d rather you ride with me and I don’t want all that fabric from a dress gettin’ in the way.”

“Oh, uh... Me and Mama used to wear pants sometimes when we worked. I still got some in my chest.” She goes into her room and finds a pair of brown pants and a gray blouse to put on. Since it’s warm out, she doesn’t bother to grab a coat to wear. 

Arthur, on the other hand, gets dressed in his usual outfit, a blue everyday shirt, brown pants, and his leather jacket. Complete with hat, of course. 

Not long after, they mount Sparrow with Arthur in the saddle and Emmeline behind him. She holds onto his waist as they head down the trail and onto the main road.

The trees give way to more open space, allowing Emmeline to look over all the land that she’s never really seen before. Off to her left, deer graze in an expanse of grass. To her right, rocks jut out from the earth as the land rises into cliffs. She’s examining the bluffs when Arthur gets her attention. 

“Look over there,” he throws his arm out to the left, pointing off to the soft rolling hills. A small herd of bison is grazing lazily in the warm sunshine.

“Oh, wow,” Emmeline breathes out in wonder. “They’re so big!”

“Yeah. We don’t wanna get much closer. Don’t want them to get spooked and stampede on us.”

“No. That doesn’t sound very good.”

They continue on until they come to a river. Arthur follows it up stream a ways until good sized waterfall comes into view. He directs Sparrow to the shore then dismounts, helping Emmeline down after.

She looks up at the feature. “This is beautiful.”

“Follow me up here, Miss Emmeline.”

She turns to Arthur, seeing that he’s moving along the rocks up toward the side of the falls. She goes to him, watching her steps as she climbs up the rocks to him. When she gets to a bigger one, Arthur holds his hand out to help her along. She gladly takes it and steps up closer to him. 

“Are we going in the water?” she asks in confusion as they get close to the water rushing over the cliff. 

“No.” He holds his arm out, prompting her to go ahead of him. “Just trust me.”

She nods and squeezes past him to step closer to the falls. She sees an opening behind the rushing water and moves forward into the small cave behind the waterfall.

“Oh my.” She turns back to Arthur, who is now in the small space with her. “How did you know this was here?”

He chuckles a little. “A treasure map lead me here.”

“A treasure!” she calls out excitedly. 

“It was just the first part, I guess.” He shrugs. “Only found another map and a few bucks.”

“You have another treasure map?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, let’s find the next treasure!”

“I don’t know, Miss Emmeline.” He scratches the back of his neck. “That map could lead anywhere. Might even be a few day’s ride from here.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She shrugs a shoulder in concession. “It sounds very adventurous, though. Looking for buried treasure,” she says with a smile.

“It’s mostly trekking out to the middle of nowhere and almost falling off a mountain.”

She giggles a little. “That doesn’t exactly sound too fun, I suppose.”

He sits down on the ground and starts to rummage in his satchel, producing some salted meat. “I like this place.” He holds the food out to her and she takes it, sitting along side him. “I like the sound of the water,” he mentions as he looks out through the falls.

She studies his face as he speaks then looks out as well. “I like it, too. I’ve read about mighty rivers carving the land, but I’ve never seen a waterfall before.”

He chuckles a little. “This ain’t exactly a mighty river, but it’s still nice. Up north there’s the tallest waterfall I ever seen.”

“Really?” She looks over to him. “Will you take me there?”

He turns to her. “Someday, maybe. It’s quite a ride.”

She nods and takes a bite of the food in her hand. “Have you travelled all around here, Mr. Morgan?”

“Mostly, I guess. I’ve been sent around doing all sorts of things for all sorts of people.”

She smiles at him. “You’re a jack of all trades.”

He gets a little bashful. “I don’t know about that. Mostly I’m just good for-“ he stops himself from saying ‘shooting folk’, “-heavy lifting,” he settles on. 

“I don’t doubt you’re good at that, Mr. Morgan.” She chuckles. “Not with all those muscles,” she adds innocently. 

“Aw...” He looks away and scratches at the back of his neck as he feels his cheeks heat up. 

“But I don’t think that’s  _ all _ you’re good for, Mr. Morgan. Surely.”

He looks at her for a moment, meeting her friendly gaze before looking away. He had never been good at taking a compliment. “We should get going.” He starts to stand, helping Emmeline up after. 

They get back on Sparrow and follow the main road until they see a road sign pointing in the direction they’re headed. 

Emmeline reads the faded word painted on the wood. “We’re headed to Valentine?”

“Yep. I’m gon’ show you there’s nothing to be afraid of there.”

“Oh. Okay,” she replies nervously. 

“You ever been to the theater?”

“No. I’ve read some plays before, though.”

“I meant like a... like a moving picture show.”

“Oh no, Mr. Morgan. Nothing like that.”

“They got a theater tent in Valentine. We can see what’s playing when we get there.”

That brings a smile to her face. “That sounds wonderful, Mr. Morgan.”

As they come upon the town, Arthur slows Sparrow to a trot. Emmeline takes in the sights of people going about their days. They pass a couple of women leaving the doctor’s office. The gunsmith is on the other side of the road with men having a conversation on the porch. There are voices from the saloon drifting out into the streets, signifying the boisterous atmosphere contained inside. Further down on the corner, several men are working to build what looks like a new store. 

The town is bustling with life, the people seemingly content to go about their lives. It’s in contrast with how Emmeline’s mother had described it. She had made it seem that it would be likely that you’d get attacked just by walking on the street. But Emmeline doesn’t have much time to think of that because Arthur hitches Sparrow after dismounting and holds his arms out to help Emmeline down. 

“Theater’s down the road,” he says as he sets her on her feet and turns in that direction. 

She follows along closely, not wanting to get too far away from him. A kindly older man walks past them and nods a greeting. 

“Mister,” Arthur greets back with a tip of his hat. 

“This place isn’t so bad, I guess,” Emmeline comments, though she still wouldn’t want to wander around alone. 

Arthur walks up to the ticket man in front of the theater tent. “Can I get two tickets?” he asks.

“Sure,” the man replies. “But the next show ain’t for twenty minutes yet.”

“That’s fine.” Arthur pays the money and turns back to Emmeline. “Looks like we got some time to kill. Come on.” He leads her back into town and to the general store. 

The clerk nods his head at the pair. “Afternoon, mister. Nice to see you again,” he greets. “This your lady?”

Arthur looks back to Emmeline and then to the clerk, unsure of what to say. “I work for her father.” He catches his mistake the second he says it. “I mean her  _ uncle _ .”

The clerk doesn’t seem to care either way. “Alright. Well, the catalog’s here if you wanna look through it.”

Thankfully for Arthur, Emmeline doesn’t notice the exchange; she’s too busy looking at the chocolates. “Can I get one of these?”

Arthur goes over to her and grabs two, along with some oat cakes for the horses. After paying, they walk back outside and sit on the porch to wait for the show to start. 

“You know,” Emmeline starts, “we ain’t never had much money for things like these.” She points to the chocolate. “Even when my pa was alive. He worked hard to grow our food. And he’d go out every day to hunt animals for meat, too. We only had a little bit of money for anything else and we mostly saved that for medicine we’d need when we was sick. When pa died, things got even worse. Mama didn’t know how to hunt, so we just ate what we grew for a while. We got pretty skinny then.” She hangs her head as she remembers. “But then mama said she found us some money. That’s when she started buying meat for supper. Things was better after that.”

Arthur nods at her story, putting it together that the money that her mother had “found” must’ve been what Dutch had left them. It makes him realize that Emmeline and her mother were actually pretty dependent on that money and that they may have starved without it.

He comes to the realization that he might have to do more for Emmeline to get her ready to live on her own when he leaves. Unless Dutch is willing to come up with some story to keep leaving her money without telling her he’s her father. 

After wasting a little bit more time, they go back over to the theater tent and take their seats. As they watch “Manflight,” they eat their chocolates. 

Emmeline has never seen anything like this before, so she’s transfixed by It. Arthur has unfortunately seen this particular movie before, but he doesn’t let on to her. He rather enjoys seeing her smile and laugh at what is being projected on screen. More than once, she catches him looking at her instead of the screen, but she doesn’t think much of it. She just smiles and puts her attention back on the movie. 

As they exit and walk back into town side by side, Arthur asks, “Did you like it?” 

“It was rather silly,” she replies. “But very entertaining. I don’t think anyone in their right mind would shoot themselves out of a canon as a means of travel, though.”

“Probably not.” He chuckles. “Why don’t we get something to eat before we head home.”

“Okay.”

They head off to the saloon, which is already pretty rowdy, even though the sun has yet to set. 

“Why don’t you sit at that table,” Arthur suggests as he points to the only empty table. “I’ll get us both some stew.”

She nods and sits down where he indicated. As Arthur leans against the bar, his back toward Emmeline, waiting for the food, she can’t help but notice the form of his body. No other man in the bar is shaped quite like him. Some are just as big in the shoulders, but they’re also big in the gut, too. The man directly to Arthur’s left is so skinny he’s absolutely dwarfed by Arthur. The man to his right is not much better, making it seem like Arthur is a giant. Emmeline can’t help but compare the men and comes to the opinion that she much rather prefers Arthur’s form to any other. 

As Arthur turns back to her with the bowls in his hands, she suddenly feels guilty for looking at him like that. It’s not polite to leer, especially for a young woman like herself.

“You okay, Miss Emmeline?” he asks as he sets the bowl in front of her and takes his own seat. 

“Yes, Mr. Morgan.” She takes a spoonful of the stew into her mouth as she avoids his gaze. 

They get back on the road headed home just as the sun starts to set. With the sky darkening, the temperature drops and Emmeline finds herself cuddling more into Arthur for warmth.

“You okay back there,” he throws over his shoulder when he feels her start to tense. 

“I’m fine. Just cold.”

He slows Sparrow then stops her. “Here.” He leans forward and takes off his jacket, handing it back to her. “Put this on. I should’ve had you bring one yourself. Or not kept you out so late.”

“Thank you.” She puts on his coat and lets out a contented sigh at its warmth. “But won’t you get cold.”

“Aw, I’ll be fine.”

Before he can set off again, Emmeline opens the coat up and tries to put it around him as much as she can while she hugs onto his back and wraps her arms around his torso. 

“There. It’s not much, but maybe it’ll keep you a little warm this way, too,” she says.

He clears his throat at the contact. He can feel the warmth of her skin seeping in to his own through the two thin layers of their shirts. That warmth somehow travels to his chest and to his belly, awakening butterflies to flutter around in his stomach. It’s not exactly a wanted feeling at this point in his life, so he shakes his head, trying to get rid of it and spurs Sparrow into a gallop. 

When they get home it’s starting to get late, so both of them say goodnight and turn in. Not too long after they both fall asleep, a storm erupts outside, waking them. Arthur listens for a minute or two, gaging whether or not he should be worried. The storm seems fairly bad, but not the worst he’s been through. He had checked on the horses before he went to bed, so they should be good. And the house is in fairly good condition; it should weather the storm just fine. With nothing really to worry about, Arthur closes his eyes to go back to sleep. 

Meanwhile, Emmeline sits bolt upright at the first thunderclap. She had always been afraid of storms, running into her parents’ room as a kid to escape. Even after her father died, she’d still seek comfort in her mother whenever there was thunder and lightning. As she grew older, she realized that was childish. Even though she stopped running to her mother for comfort, the storms still made her anxious. Now that her mother is gone, though, that anxiety comes back tenfold.

After sitting there for several minutes, she gets out of bed, wraps herself in her blanket, and leaves her room. She walks up to Arthur’s door and softly knocks. 

“Arthur?” she calls out. When she doesn’t get an answer, she starts to open his door.

The creaking of someone stepping into his room wakes him up. He opens his eyes and sees Emmeline walking towards him with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“Miss Emmeline?” he croaks out and pulls his blanket up more to cover himself from her.

“It’s storming,” she says quietly.

“I know,” he replies. That fact is obvious, so he’s not sure what she’s really doing.

“Can I sleep in here?”

He’s confused. “You wanna sleep in here?”

A sudden loud thunderclap makes Emmeline jump and Arthur finally realizes what’s going on.

“You afraid of the storm?”

She nods.

“Uh.” He fiddles with his blanket in nervousness. “I ain’t exactly dressed, Miss Emmeline.”

There’s another clap of thunder and Emmeline practically jumps into bed with Arthur on top of his blanket. She cuddles into his side and buries her face into his chest.

“Whoa there,” he calls out, unsure of how to proceed with this. After a few moments, he wraps his arms around her. “It’s gon’ be fine,” he coos as he rubs his hand over her arm.

His deep voice rumbles in his chest underneath her ear. She finds it soothing, as well as distracting against the storm raging outside.

“Will you keep talking?” she asks, hoping it will keep her calm.

“‘Bout what?”

“Anything.”

“Well...” He clears his throat trying to think of what to talk about. “I once found some sorta stone Viking burial in the ground up north. Got myself a fine helmet outta it.”

“Keep talking,” she whispers when he pauses.

“Up in the mountains, I found a woman’s face carved into the rock,” he starts. “And the man the did it,” he mutters, not wanting to elaborate that the man had hung himself. “There’s a lot of weird stuff out there if you start to look for it.”

As he continues to talk about his non-criminal adventures, he feels her slowly relax. When her breaths turn deep and even, puffing across his chest, he knows she’s asleep. He stays awake for a while, just enjoying the feel of sharing his bed with someone again. Not that he hasn’t had women in his bed in a while, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t soft and tender or caring. It was just him relieving some stress with a willing participant every once in a while.

The next morning, Arthur awakes before Emmeline. During the night, she had gotten more comfortable, her arm is splayed across his torso and her leg is bent, resting atop his thighs. He manages to urge her away from him gently enough so she doesn’t wake up and rises from the bed. Since he’s stark naked, he gathers his clothes quickly and rushes out of the room to actually put them on in case she would wake up and see him. 

He decides to go out hunting for the day. After leaving a note saying what he’s doing, he heads out looking for some deer. Before he can get too involved in that, he takes a rest by a tree and pulls his journal out. 

 

_ Took Miss Emmeline out yesterday. I figured she could use a change of scenery. I also wanted to show her that Valentine ain’t such a scary place. When I go back to camp, she’s gonna have to fend for herself and that means heading to the store and the butcher’s on her own. I think I might try to teach her how to hunt so she won’t have to buy the meat. Maybe I’ll teach her to fish, too, though I ain’t much good at it. That little creek just outside the house leads to a nice pond full of fish. I should buy Miss Emmeline a pole.  _

_ Before we went into town, I showed her that spot I like behind Cumberland Falls. She seemed to enjoy it, too. I mentioned the treasure map I found there and she wanted to go out searching for riches. I said maybe, though I’m not sure If I want to take her all across this country treasure hunting. This place can be dangerous and I’d never forgive myself for getting her hurt.  _

_ We saw a picture show in Valentine. I had seen it before, but I confess, I wasn’t much watching it this time. I rather liked seeing Miss Emmeline enjoying herself as she watched the show. Silly as it was, she had a good time.  _

_ Got woken up last night by thunder, then by Miss Emmeline coming into my room. Seems she’s afraid of storms. I comforted her as best I could, since she got right in bed with me and I had no choice, really. I told her I was naked, but it seems that wasn’t much of a deterrent. She made me tell her stories until she fell asleep.  _

_ I must admit, maybe I enjoyed having her next to me in bed more than I should have. For a moment, I thought of what it might be like to make that permanent. To start up something with her. But I ain’t a good man. Especially not good enough for her. She deserves a man like her father. Well, not her real father, not Dutch. But like Mr. Turner, the good, honest man who raised her even though he knew she wasn’t blood. She don’t need an outlaw like me.  _

_ Regardless, Emmeline needs someone right now, so it might as well be me. I don’t trust nobody else not to take advantage of her, innocent as she is. She ain’t got much that someone could swindle her out of, but any other man might do even worse than taking her money. Men like Micah. I would never let him anywhere near her.  _

 

He sketches the waterfall he took her to and then her smiling face. Once he’s done, he closes his journal and puts it back in his satchel with a sigh. He goes back over to Sparrow and gives her a nice pat on the neck. 

“I’m just an old fool, girl.” he says to Sparrow before getting back in the saddle to find the deer to hunt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished the game. :( I’m still committed to not divulging any major spoilers, but there may be some minor stuff from the game that I might include, such as the two stories of what Arthur has found.   
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur gets some unwanted news.

One day, Arthur comes back in from a trip into town with a cart full of supplies. He had mended the wheels on Emmeline’s old wagon and hitched it to Sparrow and Miss Susie to make a run into Valentine.

Emmeline comes out to greet him once she hears his approach. “What’s all this?” She peeks into the wagon before Arthur comes up behind her.

“Well,” he takes off his hat to run his fingers through his hair, “I found a feller selling an old chicken coop and some chickens for a good price. Gotcha some feed. Picked up a few other things, too.”

“Chickens?”

“It might be a little more work, but you need more food here that you ain’t gotta buy. You ain’t exactly makin’ any money here.”

“Mama always managed.”

“Yeah well-“ He has to stop himself from saying that her mama was spending  _ Dutch’s _ money. “Well... this way, you’ll always have food here.”

“Eggs do sound nice,” she admits.

Arthur hops up into the wagon and lifts a bag of feed up on his shoulder. Emmeline can’t help but notice how easy he makes it. Not to mention how his muscles bulge under his shirt at the effort. 

He throws the sack down a little ways from the house. “Why don’t you throw some feed down for the chickens while I get their coop set up.” He pulls out his knife to cut the bag open before going back to the wagon to let the chickens out. The animals immediately go to Emmeline who is sprinkling on the ground.

She looks up to Arthur, who now appears to be struggling with the coop in the wagon. “Do you need help?” she asks.

He realizes now that he may have underestimated how cumbersome the thing is. “No, Miss Emmeline,” he replies through grunts.

She doesn’t take his word for it and goes to him to help. “It looks mighty heavy,” she comments as he maneuvers the coop to the edge of the wagon.

“It’s just,” he stands fully and wipes the sweat from his brow. “It’s hard to get ahold of.”

“I can help.”

He looks at her a moment before conceding. “Alright. Just don’t get yourself hurt.”

“I won’t.”

It takes a little bit, but they get the coop set up for the chickens and put the supplies away. After taking a little rest and checking the horses, Arthur finds Emmeline sitting under a tree not far away, writing in her book.

She looks up to him and notices the fishing pole in his hand. “You going fishing, Mr. Morgan?” she asks. 

“No.  _ We _ are.” He holds his free hand out to her. “This one’s for you. I bought it today.”

She takes his hand and stands from the ground with his help. “Oh. I...” She fidgets around with her hands. “I-I don’t know how.”

“I’m gon’ teach ya. As best I can, anyways.” He offers the pole to her and waits for her to take it. 

“Okay.” She stretches out her hand and takes the collapsible fishing rod from him, her soft fingers brushing his calloused ones as she does. They both try to dismiss the pleasant contact and mount up quickly to head to the pond. It’s just a short ride as they follow the creek until it opens up into a big enough body of water to cast a line into.

“Here’s good,” Arthur throws over his shoulder to Emmeline as he pulls Sparrow to a stop.

They both dismount and take their matching fishing rods from their saddlebags. Arthur also sets down the bucket he had been carrying near the edge of the water. Emmeline watches as Arthur readies his fishing pole and follows the action, setting hers up in the exact same way. He rummages around in his satchel for a moment, producing a chunk of bread.

“Here.” He holds it out to her. “Put this on the hook. Careful not to stick yourself.”

She watches him bait his hook first before attempting to do it herself. She manages to get the bread on there without poking her fingers.

“Come up to the edge of the water,” he instructs. 

They both come to stand a little ways apart before Arthur continues with his lesson. 

“You wanna bring the pole back,” he demonstrates, “then flick it forward.” He casts his line a ways then reels in the slack. “Go ahead.”

“Okay,” she says nervously. She tries to do exactly what he said, but she’s too tense. The line ends up landing just a few feet into the water. “That... wasn’t very good,” she comments to herself.

He chuckles. “Reel it in and try again. Loosen up a little. And really flick it. You can’t do it slow.”

She lets out a breath and brings the rod back then throws it forward, allowing the baited hook to sail through the air. It doesn’t go as far as Arthur’s, but it’s a good ways from the edge of the pond.

“There ya go,” he calls out in encouragement. “Now reel it in real slow. Make the fish think that hook is something living and what they want to eat. If you just keep it in the water, they won’t get interested.”

She nods then follows his instructions. “You’re really good at this.”

He laughs with a shake of his head. “Nah. I really ain’t. If Hosea was here, he’d’ve caught ten fish by now.”

“Did he teach you?”

“ _ Tried _ to, anyway. I’m really just tellin’ you what I remember him sayin’ to me.”

“Well, I think he taught you well.”

“Haven’t caught one yet,” he comments as he recasts his line.

After several minutes, Emmeline feels a little pull on her line. “I think I got one!”

“It’s probably just a nibble. Wait ‘til you feel a tug down, then reel it in.”

When she feels the tug, she immediately starts to real it in.

“Slow down while it’s struggling or you’ll break the line,” he calls out then reels his line in and sets his pole down so he can help her.

She takes his tips and after a few minutes, she reels the fish to the shore. “I got it!”

Arthur bends down and picks the flopping fish up. “That’s a fine fish! Not bad for your first time.” He takes the hook out and hands it back to Emmeline.

She looks at it for a moment, happy that she managed to catch it. But the way its gills are moving and how it’s struggling has her heart clenching in her chest. She barely gives it a thought before she bends down to put it back in the water. The fish seems to count its lucky stars quickly swims away.

“Wh-What are you doing?!” He tries to stop her, but he’s too late.

“What?”

His brows are furrowed in confusion. “Why’d you throw it back?”

“I didn’t want it to die.”

He laughs a little. “Well that’s the point. How else are we gonna eat it?”

“Oh.” She looks down in embarrassment. “I just thought you were  _ teaching _ me. I didn’t think we would actually be cooking it.”

“Why not? I’m tryin’ to get you to provide for yourself, here. It’s better than payin’ for it at the butcher’s.”

“Well.” She looks away a moment. “I didn’t want to be the one to kill it,” she admits softly. 

He lets out a sigh. “You’re gonna hafta get used to it. What if your crops don’t grow and you don’t got the money to buy food? I got you those chickens to start. And there’s plenty of fish in this here pond to feed ya. After I leave, you’re gonna hafta take care of yourself.”

She nods after a moment. “I guess you’re right.” Thinking of Arthur not being there anymore brings a sudden heaviness to her chest. She has come to care about him greatly as well as rely on him.

“Fishing’s a lot safer than me teaching you to hunt. And if you can’t kill a fish, you sure as hell won’t be able to kill a rabbit. Or anything else.”

“That’s true. I don’t think I have it in me to kill such a creature like that.”

“You’re gonna have to toughen up if you want to make it out here on your own.” He picks his pole back up and recasts the line. “We’ll start with the fish.”

Arthur catches three fish before Emmeline gets another one. He has her take the hook out, which she tries to do as quickly as possible so she doesn’t hurt the fish.

“Is this one big enough or should I throw it back?” she asks, almost hoping he’d say it was too small.

“That one’s plenty big. Go ahead and throw it in the bucket with the others.”

She looks down at the fish in her hands. It’s still moving about, trying to get out of her grasp. “Sorry, little fella,” she whispers as she gently sets it in the bucket.

Arthur watches the exchange from the corner of his eye. He never met anyone with a gentler spirit than her. Here he is, a man that’s made his living robbing and killing people, standing next to a woman that didn’t even want to cause harm to a  _ fish _ .

They gather up their supplies and mount up to head home. When they come within sight of the house, they notice a strange horse grazing in the yard and a man sitting on the front steps.

“Charles!” Arthur calls out with a smile as he and Emmeline ride up and dismount.

“Arthur.” The man rises from his seat and goes over to Arthur to clap him on the shoulder in a friendly way. “Good to see you.”

Emmeline stands by, waiting for her introduction.

“This is Miss Emmeline Turner,” Arthur says to the man, then looks over to Emmeline. “And this is Charles Smith.” He gestures to the newcomer.

Emmeline gives a small bow. “Nice to meet you, sir. Do you work for Uncle Tacitus, too?” she asks him, figuring that’s how he knows Arthur.

“Uh,” Charles give Arthur a quick look before answering. “Yes. I work with Arthur.”

“How nice!” She gives the men a cheery smile.

“Miss Emmeline,” Arthur holds out the bucket of fish, “will you please take this inside?”

“Of course, Mr. Morgan.” She takes the bucket and turns to enter the house, giving a little nod to Charles before doing so.

Charles and Arthur walk a ways away from the house before they start to talk.

“Dutch told me you were out here helping a down-on-her-luck woman.” Charles explains. “I wasn’t expecting her to be so young.”

Arthur realizes that Dutch hadn’t told Charles that the young woman was, indeed, his own illegitimate daughter. That’s not surprising, but now that Charles has met Emmeline, Arthur has yet another person to keep the secret of her parentage from.

Arthur lights up a cigarette. “What’s goin’ on?” he asks after taking a puff, figuring Charles didn’t ride all this way for a social call.

“We had to move camp. Micah had some tip on a ferry carrying a lot of money. He convinced Dutch to try to hit it. It... did not end well.”

“Micah,” Arthur seethes. “I knew that man was trouble.”

“We managed to get the money from the ferry, but there was a shootout. I don’t know if it was a setup,” he shakes his head, “but the law was all over the place.”

“Anyone hurt?”

“Yeah.” Charles looks away for a moment. “The Callander brothers and Jenny... They’re gone. Sean got taken, but me and Javier got him back before they could hang him.”

“Shit.” Arthur scratches at his beard as he lets that sink in. He knew the Callander brothers would probably go out bloody at some point, but not Jenny. She was an innocent young woman.

“Posters for Dutch went up all over Blackwater pretty quick,” Charles adds, “dead or alive, so we had to leave. We ran all the way up into the mountains to avoid the law. Stayed up there for a bit ‘til we settled in a place Hosea knew called Horseshoe overlook.”

“I know it. It’s on the other side of Valentine.” Arthur takes one last drag before throwing the cigarette butt to the ground.

“Yeah. Not really that far from here.”

So the gang is much closer to Arthur now than they were in Blackwater. And they’re on the run. That’s not exactly welcome news.

Charles continues. “Dutch wants you to come back to camp. We had to leave all the money in Blackwater when we left and we’re low on supplies.”

“Shit,” Arthur mutters and looks back to the house for a moment. He has a duty to the gang, to Dutch. But he feels a sense of duty to Emmeline, too. He’s torn.

Charles picks up on his indecision. “We can bring her back with us.”

“No,” Arthur is quick to reply.  He doesn’t want her exposed to the outlaw lifestyle. Especially now that things are a lot more complicated for the gang. He hangs his head as he thinks. “We we were out fishing. Caught enough for the three of us to eat. Let’s have dinner and then I’ll ride out with you. And talk to Dutch.” He’s not excited to leave Emmeline, but he needs to check in with Dutch.

Arthur and Charles walk back into the house, finding Emmeline sitting near the fire. She turns to them with a smile on her face as they walk through the door.

“Mr. Smith, are you staying for supper?” she asks happily as she stands.

“Looks like it,” he answers cordially.

Arthur walks over to the bucket of fish now on the counter. “I’m gonna show you how to cook these,” he says to Emmeline.

Charles watches for a few minutes as Arthur goes through the steps of preparing and cooking the fish with the young woman. The gentleness Arthur is exhibiting with her is a side of him that Charles hasn’t seen too often. He knew that side was there in Arthur, but it hasn’t had much of a chance to present itself as of late.

As they eat the meal, Arthur is purposely avoiding telling Emmeline that he is planning on leaving tonight. Whether it will be permanent or temporary, he isn’t sure yet. But he needs to at least visit the camp, regardless.

After the plates are picked clean, Arthur ushers Charles outside so he can talk to Emmeline alone.

“Miss Emmeline,” he starts. “I need to ride out with Charles.”

“Okay,” she replies simply, not thinking through what he’s actually saying. “Will you be back tonight or in the morning?”

He scratches at the back of his head. “I ain’t sure. I need to check in at camp and... I ain’t sure when I’ll get back here. They need me.” He looks down at his feet. “It may be a while.”

She finally puts it all together. “You’re leaving?” She shakes her head as her eyes well up with tears. “You can’t leave.”

“Miss Emmeline...” He lets out a breath. “I have to. I’ll come back to check on you. Make sure you got food and everything. I promise.”

The tears start to fall down her cheeks. “I don’t want you to go.” She lunges forward and wraps her arms around him as if that could keep him there.

Things were hard for her after her mother died. She was alone for the first time in her life. Not just living alone, but alone in the world. She had no one to talk to. No one that cared about her. At her lowest, right before Arthur came to her, she had thought about ending her life.

But then Arthur  _ did _ come to her. And she has grown quite fond of him. The thought of him having to go back to his life was always present in her mind, but she tried her best not to think about it. But now... He’s actually leaving and it feels like there’s a hole in her chest.

“Emmeline...” he almost whispers as he brings his arms up to hold her. He doesn’t want to go, either, but Dutch needs him. The gang needs him. “I’ll come back.” He pulls away to look her in the eyes. “I’ll come back,” he repeats.

She finally nods, knowing that he’s made up his mind. Not trusting her voice enough to speak, she steps forward to place a sweet kiss on his cheek, her goodbye to him. 

Arthur closes his eyes at the contact. She had kissed him on the cheek plenty of times. Every time he left to go onto town, actually. But this one is a little different. This time, he really doesn’t want to leave.

Not long after, Arthur and Charles are on the road.

As they ride up the trail to the camp, Lenny calls out, “Who’s there.”

“Charles,” the man answers. “Arthur, too.”

“Welcome back, Arthur!” the young man greets.

After hitching Sparrow, Arthur finds Dutch standing by his tent near the center of the camp.

“Arthur,” the older man calls out and walks forward to meet him. “Follow me. We have some things to discuss.”

Dutch leads Arthur away from camp to the cliffs that surround it on the one side. He lights up a cigar before he speaks. “How is she?” he asks quietly.

“She’s-“ Arthur thinks of his answer a moment. “She’s not doing well,” he fibs, though he’s not willing to think why he’s not telling the full truth. “I’ve been trying, but.. She can’t make it on her own, Dutch. I really shouldn’t leave her for long.”

Sure, she certainly needs more practice with fishing and she doesn’t know much about the chickens yet, but Arthur is exaggerating just how dire her circumstances are.

“Shit,” Dutch mutters. “I was afraid you were gonna say that.” He takes a drag off his cigar. “Charles told you what happened in Blackwater?”

“Yeah. He told me Micah got you all in a heap of trouble.”

“It wasn’t Micah’s fault,” Dutch bites back. “It just all...” He lets out a huff. “There were more lawmen than we thought.”

“And the money? Charles told me you you had to leave it in Blackwater.”

Dutch nods his head hesitantly. “I need you to get it.”

“What?” Arthur shakes his head. “Are you crazy?!”

“Look.” Dutch digs his hand into his pocket and produces a piece of paper, handing it over to Arthur.

Arthur unfolds it and sees that it’s Dutch’s wanted poster.  _ Dutch Van Der Linde _ is in big black letters.  _ Wanted Dead or Alive _ sits underneath it. Beneath Dutch’s likeness is more text.  _ Known associates also wanted: Hosea Matthews, Micah Bell, Charles Smith, John Marston, Marion “Bill” Williamson, Javier Escuella _

_ “ _ So,  _ no one _ can set foot in Blackwater,” Arthur comments.

Dutch points down to the poster. “ _ You’re _ not on there.”

Arthur looks back down at it. Sure enough, his name isn’t written with the rest of them.

“Everyone knows I run with you, Dutch.”

“You haven’t been with us in weeks, son. And you barely set foot in Blackwater before you left. The law either thinks you’re dead or you’re running elsewhere,” Dutch explains. “You’re the only one I can trust with this. I can’t send the women out to get that money. They’d get themselves killed.”

“I don’t know, Dutch,” Arthur replies lowly with a shake of his head. “It might be a trap.”

“It ain’t a trap, son. No one but us knew where we kept our money. Least of all the Pinkertons. This is an  _ opportunity _ , Arthur.” He pats him on the chest. “An oversight on the law’s part and we’re going to exploit it. Get the money we’ve all worked so hard on and-“

“Move out to California,” Arthur completes the sentence.

Dutch pauses a moment. “Yes. California or some place else. Somewhere where we can live  _ free _ .”

Arthur lets out a sigh. He had always done everything Dutch had ever asked of him without question. But now, he’s having doubts.

“We can make more money...” Arthur starts.

“We  _ have _ the money, Arthur. In Blackwater. I just need you to  _ do _ as I  _ ask _ and get it back.” Dutch sets his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “We  _ need _ that money, son. The camp is low on food. Jack fell ill on the trek from the mountain. Used up most of our medicine.”

Arthur shakes his head and looks away, but he already made the decision. “I’ll head out in the morning.”

Dutch places his hand on Arthur’s cheek. “Thank you, son.”

“After I get the money back, I want to check on Miss Emmeline.”

Dutch pulls back for a moment. “Is there something you need to tell me, Arthur?”

Arthur furrows his brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I sent you out there to get Emmeline back on her feet, not sweep her off them,” he replies with some venom.

“It ain’t like that, Dutch.”

“Just because I haven’t been in that girl’s life, it don’t mean I ain’t her father. So you make sure it stays  _ not like that _ .” Dutch turns around and heads back to camp without looking back.

Arthur watches as Dutch walks way. The conversation he just had rattles around in his head. He has a place here in the gang. He has a job. He’s supposed to be the one that follows Dutch’s orders. Faithfully. Without question. 

So why does he feel so conflicted.

Arthur mills around the camp catching up with people before settling down in the tent Miss Grimshaw set up for him. Before he lays his head down, he pulls out his journal to write an entry.

_ Got called back to camp. It seems that Micah somehow convinced Dutch into a harebrained robbery of a ferry carrying a lot of money. Predictably, it went south. Poor Jenny and the Callander boys lost their lives. And the camp is low on funds and supplies. _

_ Dutch pulled me back in to go and collect the money that was left in Blackwater. I guess, because I’ve been staying with Miss Emmeline, the law don’t think I’m with the gang no more. Which means I ain’t got a price on my head for the robbery. And hopefully I won’t get shot the second I set foot in the city. _

_ Leaving Miss Emmeline was harder than I thought it would be. Even now, I want to ride off to check on her, but the gang needs me. Dutch needs me here right now. After I bring back the money tomorrow, I’ll check on her. _

_ After that, I’m not sure what will happen. It seems if we get back the money in Blackwater, we’d have enough to buy us some land out west and actually settle down. Maybe Miss Emmeline could come with us. If we’re just ranchers or whatever we’re gonna be out there, she could be there, too. We won’t be outlaws no more.  _

_ She wouldn’t have to be with me. Dutch is right. She shouldn’t be with me, but she could still be part of the camp after we go straight. I know she’s smart enough to live out in her house on her own, but I don’t want her to. I don’t want her to be alone. I’m sure she don’t want to be alone, either. _

_ Of course, none of that is gonna happen if I can’t get into Blackwater and get out with the money. _

He sketches a picture of Emmeline smiling happily after she had caught her first fish, the hem of her dress soaking up the water at the edge of the pond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read this! I introduced the Blackwater job, but things will be going in a different direction from the game. So no major spoilers. That means that some of the things we learn about Arthur’s backstory in the game, I’m going to ignore, so anyone that hasn’t finished the game (or just anyone that wants a happy Arthur) can still read it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur heads into Blackwater to retrieve the ferry money.

Arthur heads out early the next morning so he can be in Blackwater before the sun fully rises. As he pushes Sparrow through the roads and trails, all he can think about is what Dutch said the night before. And not the part he really should be thinking about. 

Of course he’s worried about the gang and their money, but he’s also trying to dissect what Dutch said about Emmeline. In no uncertain terms Dutch warned Arthur away from her. There’s that part of himself that agrees. He shouldn’t get too close to her. He’ll only ruin things and make her life worse. But there’s another part (a smaller part, but it’s still there) that’s hurt by Dutch insisting he stay away. Dutch was always like a father to him. And on more than one occasion, Dutch has told him how proud he was at the man Arthur had become. So why would he be so adamant that Arthur never be with Emmeline?

Arthur slows Sparrow as he comes to the point where he has to cross the Upper Montana River into the land surrounding Blackwater. If he were going to get nabbed by the law, it would probably be right here. 

He sighs at the thought. “Alright, girl,” he says to Sparrow before spurring her forward. “Here we go.”

To Arthur’s relief, no one comes after him. He can see lawmen camped out on the ridges overlooking the pass, but they only give him a quick look before turning their attentions back to the road below. It must really be true that the law has forgotten about him.

The whole time the gang was set up outside Blackwater, Arthur told Dutch that keeping the money within the city limits was a bad idea. But Dutch insisted he had the perfect spot, a hollowed out tree in the cemetery of the church right outside of town. No one would ever look there, apparently. Every time Arthur complained about it, Dutch would just say that someone he trusted was watching over it. It’s not until Arthur actually sets eyes on the spot that he understands what he meant. 

Arthur walks over the nearby grave that caught his eye. “Greta Van Der Linde,” he reads aloud. “Loving mother to her son Dutch.” Arthur chuckles and shakes his head. “Dutch.”

He walks over to the closest tree and couches down beside it. There’s a very obviously dug out hole by the semi exposed roots. That’s odd, he thinks. Dutch knows better than to make it so obvious that there’s something hidden there. Arthur sticks his hand the the hole and roots around in the hollow cavity under the tree. When he doesn’t feel anything, he shoves his arm in deeper, but he comes up empty handed. Literally. 

“Shit,” Arthur mutters, trying not to raise his voice in anger. The money is not there. Not where it should be. “Goddamnit.” Someone had taken the money.

He stands up straight and wipes his brow. The action causes him to turn his head toward the church and he notices a man sleeping against the side of the building. As Arthur walks closer to him, he sees the empty whiskey bottle loosely held in the man’s hand. Obviously, the man had one too many and passed out near the church. 

“Hey.” Arthur kicks one of the man’s outstretched legs to wake him up. 

The man makes a startled, half asleep noise then looks up to Arthur. “Whacha want, mister? I’m tryna sleep here.”

It’s probably a long shot, but Arthur asks anyway, “You didn’t happen to see anyone out near that tree, did ya?” Arthur points to the tree in question.

The man hiccups before answering. “Actually. Now that you mention it, I did. Two fellers was carrying on over there.”

“You see what they look like?”

The man shrugs. “It was dark.” *hiccup* “They got real excited about sumthin’ then left real quick. One of them was named Clem... or Cleet. Sumthin’ like that. I heard ‘em mention Strawberry.” 

“What time was that?”

“Uh.” He scratches at his stringy hair. “What time is it now?”

Arthur pulls out his pocket watch. “4:24,” he answers curtly. 

The man thinks for a moment. “How long have I been sitting here?”

Arthur is losing patience with this. “How the hell would I know?”

“Calm down, mister.” The man gives Arthur a dismissive gesture. “I got kicked out of the saloon at...” He thinks a moment, “midnight, abouts. I think. That’s when that no good bartender usually shuts me off.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and turns to walk away, having gotten all the information he could out of the drunk. Besides, those men could have a pretty good head start, so Arthur needs to get on the road if he wants to catch up to them. 

“Hey wait,” the man calls out. “Could you lend me a dollar for a drink.”

“You don’t need no more!” Arthur yells back. 

“I told you what you wanted!”

“Don’t press your luck, you old drunk,” Arthur growls without looking back to the man. 

Arthur hops back up on Sparrow, headed for Strawberry. This situation doesn’t seem right to him. What are the odds that someone would come across that money on their own? And right before Arthur was going to pick it up himself? It doesn’t make a lot of sense. 

As Arthur comes into the town of Strawberry, the streets are congested with people starting their days. His first stop is The Trackers Hotel. There’s a small bar on the ground floor and with any luck, maybe the men he’s looking for stopped in there last night. And if he’s  _ really _ lucky, they gabbed about where they’re holed up.

Arthur pushes the door to the hotel open, his boots crunching on broken glass with the first step. He looks down at his foot, then around the room at large. The whole place is a mess, glass everywhere, tables upturned, puddles of mysterious liquids all over. There’s an ornery looking older woman trying to sweep up the debris and an equally unimpressed man cleaning behind the bar.

“Looks like you had quite the night,” Arthur calls out with a chuckle.

“Yeah, well,” the man behind the bar starts. “If you’re lookin’ for a drink, you’re gonna have to go elsewhere. We were drunk damn near dry last night.”

“Can I ask what the occasion was?”

The woman lifts her head to answer. Albeit, in a way that shows her displeasure with the events of the night before. “Two gentlemen, and I use that term loosely, decided to throw their money around our small town like they was big men. Bought drinks for the whole bar all night. Caused a few fights, too.”

“Two men, huh?” Arthur scratches at his jaw. “They happen to say where they was staying at?”

The man and woman share a look before the man answers. “They stole from you, didn’t they?”

“Why do you say that?” Arthur asks.

“There’s only two reasons men flaunt their money like those fellers did last night. They’re either high born or they’re spending someone else’s money. And those men certainly weren’t no royalty.”

“Well,” Arthur walks forward and leans against the bar in front of the man, “if you’re right, then you shouldn’t have a problem selling them out. Thieves like that.”

“I knew them men was trouble the second I laid eyes on ‘em.” The man shakes his head. “Cabin. Just north of here. I overheard one of ‘em saying that to a whore.”

“Charles!” the woman chides from across the room. 

“Well, that’s what she is!”

Arthur digs out a coin from his satchel and sets it on the bar. “Thanks, mister.”

As the old couple continues to bicker, Arthur turns to leave the hotel. He mounts Sparrow quickly and rides off to the cabin the bartender told him about. It’s not too far from the town, so it should be just a short ride to get there. The problem is that it’s back in the woods, so Arthur takes a few minutes to actually find it. 

He dismounts his horse, leaving her back amongst the trees so any occupants of the cabin won’t see his approach. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he slinks up to one of the boarded up windows and peeks through a knothole inside. Seeing as the windows are covered, it’s rather dark inside. One lantern sits on the table in the middle of the room, casting just enough light for Arthur to make out all the important details. One of those being the large pile of money and a few gold bars sitting next to the lantern. He can see two men sleeping, apparently the men Arthur’s been after. The bigger one is face down on the bed and the skinny guy is sprawled out on a chair with his hat covering his face. 

“Dumbasses,” Arthur mutters to himself as he walks up to the front door. 

Taking cover to the left of the doorframe, Arthur reaches out and turns the door knob, pushing the door open as he ducks back behind the wall. 

“Huh?” One of the men stirs awake. “Who’s there?” he calls out. “Joe, I think someone’s out there.”

Arthur doesn’t move a muscle, so as not to give away his position. 

The other man wakes up with the commotion. “Go check it out then, Cleet,” he bites back.

Cleet reluctantly rises from his chair and walks to the door with his gun drawn. He’s not the only one, though. Arthur has his revolver up, right about head height, fully cocked. As soon as Cleet peeks out of the doorway, Arthur shoots him right through the temple, fast enough that the man is dead before he even realizes it. 

Arthur rushes into the cabin, thinking he’ll catch Joe off guard still in bed. Unfortunately, the man is much closer to the door than Arthur thought he’d be. Before Arthur can turn to shoot at Joe, the man barrels into him, sending the two of them crashing into the table. The old wood splinters easily under the combined weight of them, sending what was atop it to the ground.

Joe gets in a few good punches to Arthur’s face before Arthur manages to flip them both around, gaining the upper hand. They exchange a few more blows, both too involved in not dying at the other’s hand to notice that the lantern that had been on the table had crashed to the ground, spreading the oil across the floor and leading a flame to the bed, which quickly lights up.

As they wrestle on the floor, Arthur finally manages to get his hand on his revolver. He brings it up under Joe’s chin and pulls the trigger, killing the man instantly. Arthur takes a deep breath, but it’s choked with smoke. It’s then that he realizes that the cabin is quickly burning up around him. He shoves the dead man off his chest and turns to where the money should be.

“No!” he yells as he sees nothing but flames on what used to be the cash he had come there for. He manages to pick up a few stacks that had fallen away from the flames before running from the fully engulfed building.

He takes a moment out in the fresh air to catch his breath. This had been a fool’s errand in the end. And now he has to tell Dutch that he failed in getting the money.

“Dammit!” Arthur kicks at the ground. He stands there for several minutes, just watching the cabin and the money inside burn.

The whole ride back to camp, Arthur thinks about what had happened. The more he thinks about it, the more he thinks this wasn’t just a random event. This was planned. 

When Arthur hitches his horse, Micah walks by him, headed for his own mount. 

“It looks like you ran into trouble,” Micah teases upon looking at the cuts and bruises on Arthur’s face. 

“Shut up, Micah,” Arthur mutters, walking further into camp.

Dutch notices Arthur’s approach and meets him at the table close to where Arthur has hitched his horse. “Did you get the money, son?” Dutch asks nervously. He knows Arthur very well and the look on his face isn’t screaming “success”.

Arthur shoves his hand in his satchel and pulls out the money he managed to save, about $1000, tossing it onto the table in front of Dutch without saying a word.

Dutch waits a moment before speaking. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“Gone,” Arthur answers gruffly. “Burned up.”

Upon hearing that, Micah stomps back over to them. “What?!”

“What do you mean ‘ _ burned up _ ’?” Dutch almost growls.

Arthur starts to explain. “The money wasn’t where you left it in that cemetery,” he directs at Dutch. “It was taken by two fellers. I followed ‘em up to a cabin just north of Strawberry. I killed ‘em both, but a lantern got upset before I did. The whole cabin burned up.”

“You gotta be shittin’ me!” Micah picks up a nearby chair and throws it across the camp in anger.

Now everyone in the camp is looking in Arthur’s direction. Dutch just glares at Arthur for a moment as he thinks this development over.

“It’s all gone?” Dutch asks, hoping Arthur will tell him something different.

“Maybe the gold’ll still be there. In the ashes,” Arthur comments.

Dutch throws his hands up with a growl after a moment. “I need to think!” He stomps off to his tent, closing the flaps to give him privacy.

As Arthur’s attention is on Dutch, Micah come up from his side and shoves him hard, almost sending him to the ground. “Are you that much of an idiot you’d let all that money burn!?”

Arthur shoves him right back. “What the hell was I supposed to do?! It was covered in burning lamp oil! I barely made it outta that damn cabin alive!”

Arthur and Micah are pulled away from each other by Javier and Charles before they can start to tussle.

“Let me go!” Micah yells to Charles, but the bigger man keeps ahold.

Arthur doesn’t fight against Javier, but that doesn’t mean he’s done. “This is  _ your _ fault, Bell!” he calls out as he aggressively points to Micah. “That ferry job was a stupid idea!”

“How would you know, Morgan?!” Micah spits back. “You ain’t been here!  _ I’ve _ been here, making money for these parasites to live off of!” He gestures to everyone standing around.

“That’s enough!” Hosea’s booms, his usually calm voice replaced with something more authoritative. “Micah,” he points to the man, “go cool off. Charles, ride out to that cabin and see if there’s anything left. Arthur, come with me.”

Charles lets go of Micah, the man still fuming as he stomps off toward his horse. Charles lingers a moment to make sure Micah doesn’t turn back before heading out per Hosea’s orders.

Arthur follows Hosea over to the cliffs at the edge of camp. As soon as Hosea turns back to him, Arthur starts.

“I didn’t set that place on fire on purpose. I wanted to get that money. Those men-“

“I know, Arthur,” Hosea cuts him off.

“Those men knew where that money was, Hosea,” Arthur says more quietly. “I know it. They didn’t just come across it. That money was dug out.”

“You think someone told them where our money was.”

“Yeah.” Arthur nods. “I don’t how. Me, you, and Dutch was the only ones to know where we kept our money.” Arthur shakes his head.

“Maybe. Or maybe they saw us put it there.”

“And waited a few weeks until the  _ day _ I got out there to pick it up?”

Hosea thinks a moment. “That is suspicious. But we don’t have any proof.” He scratches at his clean shaven jaw. “Why don’t you keep these thoughts to yourself, for now. We don’t need the group tearing itself apart to find a rat. Especially if there ain’t one to begin with.”

“If that’s what you think we should do...” Arthur replies with a shrug.

“We’ll keep a lookout. If we see anything, then we’ll know someone’s being disloyal. Then we can bring it to the group and we can deal with it accordingly.”

“You know who it would be,” Arthur says pointedly without actually saying the name. “Ain’t nobody else would sell us out like that.”

Hosea lets out a breath. He knows what Arthur is saying, and he may even agree with him, but being hasty in this situation would lead to unnecessary bloodshed. 

“Like I said, I’ll keep my eyes open,” Hosea reiterates.

Arthur nods. Hosea usually always knew what was best for the group, so he’ll go along with what he says. 

“Alright,” Arthur agrees. “I need to head out again, though. For a little bit at some point.” He wants to check on Emmeline and make sure that she’s okay, since he’s been gone for a couple days.

“Ah,” Hosea nods with a little smirk on his face. “The ‘down-on-her-luck’ woman Dutch has you helping.” He uses the words Dutch did when he explained why Arthur wasn’t at camp anymore.

“Yeah,” is all Arthur says.

“Would this woman be Dutch’s daughter?”

Arthur’s head snaps up to meet Hosea’s gaze. “How-“

“I’ve run with Dutch for twenty years, Arthur. And I’m not an imbecile.”

Arthur shakes his head with a chuckle. Of course Hosea would figure it out. “Dutch doesn’t think you know.”

Hosea nods. “I decided years ago that I’d let him come to me with that information. He hasn’t yet.”

“How’d you even know about her?”

“I knew Dutch was real sweet on that red headed farm girl. He made us stay in New Hanover for months because of her. Then, one day, we just left. And he never mentioned her again. A couple years after that, I found myself in Valentine. I don’t even remember why, now. But I went into the general store and I see none other than that red headed farm girl, next to her blond haired husband, carrying a raven haired little girl about two years old. Didn’t take a genius to put it all together. And when that woman caught me looking at her baby, she rushed outta there so fast, like she didn’t want me to realize what was going on.”

Arthur lights up a cigarette. “Dutch didn’t tell you because he said you’d think poorly of him for not takin’ care of the girl.”

“He’d be right,” Hosea says simply. “But it was his choice.” Hosea pauses a moment. “Is the girl sick? Is that why he sent you out there?”

“No. She ain’t sick. She’s just alone. Her father, or who she thinks was her father, died some years ago. Then the mother. Before she passed, she sent a letter to Dutch asking him to take care of Emmeline. The girl...” he scratches at the stubble on his cheek, thinking of what to say. “Her mother kept her home. Told her she’d get murdered if she left, pretty much. She wouldn’t go into town by herself. She didn’t even know how to hunt or fish. She woulda starved in a month without me there.”

“What’s she like?” Hosea asks. Hosea has always been curious about what kind of a woman she grew up to be. Even though Dutch hadn’t told him about her, or even acknowledged her as his own, in the back of his mind he’s still always seen the girl as a part of the family.

Arthur thinks it over. “She’s sweet. Innocent. Real gentle. She didn’t even want to kill a fish when I took her out fishing.” He shakes his head with a chuckle. “Reads a lot. Must get that from Dutch. She writes little stories, too.”

Hosea smiles. “She sounds like a fine woman.”

“She’s naive, though. Believed every word that’s come outta my mouth.” Arthur shakes his head. “I don’t want no one takin’ advantage of her.”

“I don’t want that, either. If Dutch isn’t gonna take care of that girl the way she needs, I’m glad you are.”

Arthur nods. “You gonna talk to Dutch about that money?”

“Yeah. We were already planning what we’d do with it. Guess we’ll have to change our plans.” He claps Arthur on the shoulder then walks back into camp.

Arthur stays around camp for a little bit, catching up with everyone and eating some of Pearson’s stew. Mostly, he’s just waiting for Charles to come back to see if he salvaged anything. When he finally does, he brings with him a few gold bars and some gold nuggets. That’s very good news, but it isn’t anywhere near compensation for all the cash that was burned. That fact is made more pointed by the fact that Dutch retreats back into his tent immediately after seeing the gold.

Arthur waits until most of the camp is asleep to head out. Emmeline’s house isn’t a long ride away, so he should be able to spend the night to make sure she’s okay and get back to camp in the morning before anyone really notices. It’s not that he’s really trying to hide what he’s doing, but maybe some people would expect him to stay in camp, given the recent developments. If they knew he was leaving, they might question his loyalties.

Arthur is surprised to see light coming out of the windows of Emmeline’s cabin once he rides up. Normally, she would be asleep by now. In actuality, though, she was having trouble sleeping. To try to tire herself out, she had grabbed her book and sat at the table writing a story. She is almost finished with it when the door starts to open. Emmeline is instantly on her feet. In her mind, only one person would be walking into her home.

“Arthur!” she calls out as he takes his first step into the room.

“Miss-“ That’s all he gets out before Emmeline jumps at him, throwing her arms around his neck. He instinctively wraps his arms around her torso so she doesn’t fall, considering her feet aren’t even on the ground.

“I missed you!”

Arthur walks the two of them into the room, kicking the door closed behind them. “I weren’t gone that long.” He sets her down and pulls away from her.

“You’re hurt!” she exclaims once she gets a good look at his face.

“It ain’t bad,” he dismisses.

“Let me help you.” Before he can object, she pulls his satchel off, throwing it on the table, and pushes his coat from his shoulders.

“I’m alright-“

She pushes him down to sit in the chair, then goes over to the cabinet to grab a small bottle of alcohol and a clean rag. “Stay still.” She comes to stand right in front of him. “This might hurt a bit.” She douses the cloth in the alcohol and leans over Arthur to dab at the split in his eyebrow. 

He winces a little at the sting, but stays still just like she asked. 

“What happened, Mr. Morgan? Was it bandits?”

He thinks of what to tell her. “Nuthin’ like that, Miss Emmeline. Just a... a feller had too much to drink in the saloon. Thought I was talkin’ about him. Took offense,” he lies. 

“You need to be careful, Mr. Morgan.” She tilts his head up so she can tend to the cut on his cheekbone. “You have the most wonderful eyes,” she comments as she looks down at him. “But that bruise takes away a bit of the beauty.” She lightly touches the newly purple skin under his left eye. 

He blinks and tries to look away. “I, uh...”

“Hold still.” She gently puts his face back to where she wants it and dabs at the small cut in his bottom lip. 

He keeps his eyes closed after that, thinking if that he doesn’t see her, somehow she wouldn’t notice the heat blooming in his cheeks. He feels her pull the cloth from his skin, but then her soft lips are lightly kissing his left eyelid. He relaxes automatically, bringing his hands up to her waist without thought. He can feel the warmth of her skin seeping from the light shift she always wears to bed. It fills his mind with thoughts that he shouldn’t be having. How easy it would be to wrap his arms around her and squeeze her body close to his. How he could run his hands over her exposed thighs and under her dress. When she pulls away, though, he snaps out of it and opens his eyes. 

“What was that for?” he asks quietly. 

“My mama always said a kiss would make it better.”

When she bends forward again, he doesn’t stop her. Not until her lips just barely graze his bruised bottom lip. At the contact, that voice starts telling him he doesn’t deserve her. Before she can fully kiss him, he pushes her back gently. 

“I’m fine, Miss Emmeline. No need to fuss.”

She swallows hard as she stands fully. “Okay.” She backs away from him, corking the bottle of alcohol and putting it back where it goes. “Well, goodnight, Mr. Morgan.” She hurries into her room, closing the door behind her. 

Being that close to Arthur stirred up feelings in her. She had never been with a man before, but she’s read stories of courtship and love. Could things be like all that for her? Could she fall in love with this man that came into her life at such a low moment? The thought makes her smile, though it sours when she thinks about the way he pushed her away. 

She hadn’t really meant to kiss him. Not in that way. She was just doing what her mother always did to make her feel better. But maybe he took it a different way. And maybe he just saw her as the girl his boss asked him to look after. Maybe he was just a nice man making sure she was okay and that’s it. That realization makes her let out a heavy breath as she gets back into her bed, hoping that sleep will come quickly. 

As for Arthur, he stays seated for a few minutes after Emmeline left the room, thinking things over. He reaches across the table to take his journal out of his satchel and starts to write. 

 

_ Got into Blackwater just fine. Guess the law ain’t after me after all. The only problem is, the money weren’t there. I ended up finding it, along with the guys that took it, in a cabin up by Strawberry. They ended up dead and the money ended up burning to ash as the cabin lit up from a broken lantern. Stupid. I managed to save some of the cash and Charles went out to collect the gold, but it’s a mere pittance of what it was. Some $150000 turned into about $3000. Jenny and those Callander brothers lost their lives for nothing. Not to mention, the gang’s wanted dead or alive in Blackwater.  _

_ That ferry job really were foolish.  _

_ I talked to Hosea about it all. I think someone in the camp talked about that money and that’s how those two fellers came across it. Either someone overheard Dutch talking about it and was stupid enough to get overheard talking about it in return or someone wanted that money for himself. And that’s what I’m betting on. And I have my suspicions that it’s Micah.  _

_ I don’t got any proof yet, but it makes sense. He’s been whispering in Dutch’s ear for months. It don’t put it past him to get the location of our stash out of him. Or maybe he just overheard. Regardless, I’m gonna have my eye on Micah from here on out. Hosea will, too, I’m sure.  _

_ I went back to check on Emmeline. She made a fuss about me being hurt. Rubbed alcohol on my cuts, then kissed my bruises. She went to kiss my fat lip, but I stopped her. It was at the last second, but I did stop her.  _

_ I thought about it, letting her kiss me. Kissing her back. But I know it wouldn’t be right. I can’t give her the kind of life she deserves. Starting anything with her would just be wrong. I don’t want to bring her into this life I’m living. And I sure as Hell can’t share her life right now. I’ve lied to her so much already. How could I tell her that I have to leave her to go rob a train? Break someone out of jail? Swindle money out of folk? _

_ I tried to settle down once before with Mary and it failed. Miserably. I just ain’t meant for that sort of life.  _

_ Emmeline’s better off without me.  _

 

After he sketches the burning cabin on the next page, he sets his journal down on the table next to Emmeline’s book. This has been one long day and it’s taking its toll on Arthur. He stands from his seat with a sigh and walks into his bedroom to get some rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I love getting feedback, so don’t be shy!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emmeline joins in a hobby of Arthur’s.

While Arthur was gone, Emmeline’s sleep was far from restful. She found herself waking up at all hours instead of sleeping until morning. But with him sleeping in the room next to hers again, she sleeps soundly.

When she wakes with the sun, she feels refreshed. She gets dressed quickly and goes out to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Arthur’s door is still closed, meaning that he must still be sleeping. She figures that whatever Uncle Tacitus had him doing must’ve worn him out. As she puts the kettle on for coffee, she sits down at the table.

Figuring that she could probably finish the story she was writing last night while she waits for the water to get hot, she pulls the leather book over to her and opens it. To her surprise, she doesn’t see her own handwriting, but a sketched picture covering both pages. She realizes very quickly that it’s of her standing in the creek washing clothes. The details are all there, perfectly rendered in beautiful pencil strokes.

“What are you doing?” Arthur’s gruff voice booms from beside her, causing her to jump since she thought he was still asleep in his room. He had apparently woken and gotten dressed at some point because he is now standing right beside her looking none too impressed. Quickly he pulls his journal away from her and snaps it shut. Not before seeing what page she had it open to, though.

“I’m sorry. I thought it was my book.” She gestures to her notebook still sitting on the table. It and Arthur’s journal are very similar looking, so she hopes he will realize her mistake. “I didn’t mean-“

“Did you read it?” he barks out.

“No,” she answers quickly. “I just opened it. I swear. I-I wouldn’t have read it.” She looks up to him with wide eyes, willing her tears not to flow. She really doesn’t want Arthur mad at her, especially for something that was just a mistake.

He can see her eyes misting over and it causes his chest to tighten. With a shake of his head and a sigh, he says, “Don’t be upset, Emmeline. I ain’t really mad atcha.”

“No. It’s okay. I understand. I’d be mad, too, if I thought someone was reading my private thoughts.”

“You really didn’t read none of it?”

“Not a word. I just saw that picture of me. But only for a moment.”

He looks away, embarrassed that she saw pretty much the only picture in his journal he wouldn’t want her to see. And that she realized that it was of her. “I’m real sorry about that,” he says without looking up. “I’ll rip it out.”

“What?” she asks in confusion.

He finally looks at her. “I’ll get rid of the picture. I shouldn’ta drawn it.”

“Why not? You’re a very good artist.”

Now he’s confused. “You ain’t dressed in it. It weren’t proper for me to draw you like that.”

She thinks about it for a moment, not really understanding why it’s a big deal. “I don’t mind. I mean, I wasn’t about to step in the stream with my dress on.”

He stares at her for a moment. “You don’t mind that I drew you?”

“No. I think it’s beautiful. Maybe it’s vain to say that because it’s me in the picture. But you have a lot of talent.”

He looks away bashfully. “Aww. I ain’t really that good. I just scribble, really.”

“Do you have any drawings of yourself?” she asks. “Don’t artists do self portraits?”

He chuckles. “I ain’t no artist. And I ain’t gonna draw myself when there’s far more interesting things out there to draw.”

“Do you have more drawings in your journal?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I see them?” When he doesn’t say anything right away, she looks away, shaking her head. “You don’t have to. I just... I really like the way you draw.”

He can feel the blood rushing up his neck to his cheeks. “Maybe some other time. I should really be heading out.”

“You’re leaving again?”

“Yeah. The camp needs me back, so...” He clears his throat. “I’ll come check on ya in a few days.”

“Oh.” She can’t keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Okay. I’ll see you then.” She gives him a tight smile, though she’s not exactly happy about being left alone again.

“Alright, Miss Emmeline.” He tips his hat and heads for the door.

“Please, call me Emma,” she calls out.

He stops and turns back to her, mulling it over for a moment as a smile creeps its way into his face. “I’ll see you later then, Emma.” He tips his hat again then is gone.

Even though she’s not happy that he’s leaving, the fact that he used her less formal name makes her smile. She doesn’t want him to see her just as a job or a responsibility someone else tasked him with. She wants him to care about her the way she cares about him. At least a little bit, anyways.

In the few days that Arthur is gone, Emmeline tries her hand at drawing. She used to draw a lot as a kid, and she was pretty good at it, too. After her father died, though, she stopped. He had always encouraged her to draw more, so when he passed, it reminded her too much of him. Seeing Arthur’s drawing made her want to pick the pencil back up again, though.

She draws Miss Susie, the creek, some trees, a squirrel, and anything else she sees fit to. The drawings are a little unrefined, especially compared to Arthur’s, but she finds that she rather likes the act of putting what she sees down on paper.

After being alone for a couple days, Emmeline finds herself missing Arthur quite a bit. The chores and practicing drawing have kept her occupied, but that loneliness still seeps in more and more. Before she can even think about it, her pencil is sketching Arthur’s face, as if just seeing him, even in illustration, would somehow make her feel better.

That first drawing doesn’t come out quite right. She shifts to drawing his form as he leans against a tree, his wide shoulders accentuated by crossed arms, narrow hips popped out to one side, and long legs, one crossed over the other at the ankle. She’s marginally happier with this attempt, finding the general pose easier to draw than a highly detailed face. She attempts his visage again, though. Over and over she tries to commit the memory of his expressions to paper. After a while, she’s happy with what she’s been able to accomplish, the face on the paper actually looking like more like Arthur than anything else.

Meanwhile, Arthur is busy trying to provide for the gang, since that Blackwater money is forever gone. He spends much of his time upon getting back hunting to build up their food stores and selling the pelts for profit. Then, there’s the homestead he and Javier rob, which goes pretty smoothly. The stagecoach job he gets roped into doing with Micah goes a little less smoothly, however. Arthur’s lucky to come out of it free of bullet holes, but they do manage a good take on it.

He also receives a letter from Mary asking him for help. He goes, of course, and does what she asked, saving her brother from getting himself killed. For a moment as he’s talking with Mary, he thinks that maybe she might ask him to run away with her, to start things up again. But she doesn’t. And on the ride back to camp, he realizes that the part of him that used to want to leave his outlaw life to be with her wasn’t there any more. He still cares for her in a way and the hurt she caused him with her rejection would always be there, but he realizes he’s closed that chapter of his life, well and truly.

Once he gets back to his tent at camp, he takes the picture of Mary he always kept beside his bed and puts it away in his trunk.

After a few days of solid work for the gang, he knows he should check on Emmeline. He’s planning on spending at least a couple days with her, recuperating from how hard he’s been pushing himself to keep everyone fed and healthy at camp. He figures he’ll leave first thing in the morning to go to her house.

As Arthur walks toward his tent to turn in for the night, he’s stopped by Dutch.

“Arthur, my boy,” the dark haired man calls out jovially.

Arthur comes to stand before him. “Hey, Dutch.”

“You’ve been doing fine work out there.” He claps Arthur on the shoulder. “I’m real glad to have you back.”

“It’s, uh, it’s good to be back. Helpin’ out.” Arthur looks down and scratches the back of his neck. “I’m plannin’ on heading out tomorrow.”

His eyes are cold as he responds, “Where to, might I ask?”

Arthur doesn’t much like the scrutiny in Dutch’s expression, knowing what he must be thinking. He recalls the last conversation he had with Dutch concerning Emmeline and what he implied about Arthur’s feelings toward her. He’s technically not wrong in that assumption, but Arthur isn’t planning on acting on his feelings, so nothing will come of it in the end. Still, it surprises even himself when the lie starts to pour out from his own lips. “Heard from this trapper feller about a wolf up north in Ambarino, Cotorra Springs. He says the pelt is worth a lot of money. Thought I’d try to bring it in.”

Dutch nods, knowing full well that Arthur isn’t telling the whole truth. “I know what this is about,” he responds lowly.

Arthur just looks back at Dutch, not knowing what to say in defense. He was surely caught in his lie, he figures.

Dutch lays his hand softly on the younger man’s shoulder. “I know you went out to help Mary. And I saw you take her picture down when you came back. That woman tore your heart out once. Ain’t no shame in admitting that, son.” He moves his hand up to Arthur’s cheek and gives it a pat. “If you need a few days to yourself, go on and take ‘em.”

Dutch had misread the situation. Thankfully for Arthur.

He gives the man a tight smile. “Thank you, Dutch.”

Once Arthur is back in his tent, he lets out a sigh of relief then brings out his journal.

 

_I’ve been working hard to make back the money that we lost when the Blackwater take burned up before my eyes. Running myself ragged. But the gang needs money. So Dutch says. Every day since I came back he’s said that to me. So every day since I came back, I’ve been making him money._

_Even though I’ve been busy, I still think about her. Miss Emmeline. Emma. She asked me to call her Emma. I know she said once before that’s what her parents called her. I admit, I rather liked the idea of calling her something more personal. I guess maybe I should’ve done it sooner. She’s been calling me Arthur instead of Mr. Morgan for a little bit. I just wasn’t sure if I really should be so friendly._

_I probably shouldn’t. I should be keeping her at arm’s length. But I just don’t want to. For the first time in a long time, I feel that pull. But it ain’t right of me. Mary is proof that I can’t be that kind of man. And I don’t want to keep Emma from finding the kind of man she really deserves._

_Mary. I saw her again after all those years. She wrote me a letter and I ran out to her. But it felt different than what I thought it would. It still hurt, but it was less like a fresh wound and more like the memory of it. When I looked at her, I did see that woman I fell in love with, but it just felt different than I remembered._

_I don’t know._

_She asked me if I found someone else. I said no. She didn’t believe me. Said I had the look, whatever that means._

_I guess deep down I_ _do_ _know what that means. It’s just hard to admit that I have feelings for someone again. I lied right to Dutch’s face about it. First time since I got into my twenties, probably. I didn’t know how to tell him that I needed to see Emmeline. So I didn’t. Spun some tale about hunting a rare wolf for a few days to cover it._

_I don’t think he’d react very well if I told him how I feel about his daughter. Though he ain’t exactly a father to her, but it seems to matter to him all the same. I guess it don’t rightly matter anyway. I ain’t gonna act on it. I just want to make sure she’s doing fine. And when she finds a man that can take care of her, I’ll move on._

 

He lets out a sigh at the thought. He knows that’s what’s right for her, but it still leaves a pit in his stomach to think about her being with someone else.

The next morning, he tries to head out early. The problem is, Miss Grimshaw all but orders him to take the girls into town for some supplies. Once he gets back into camp it’s about noon. He wastes no time in getting Sparrow saddled up and ready to go.

“So, going off on a hunt?” Hosea’s voice comes out from behind Arthur as he brushes his horse.

He turns back to him. “Yup. Dutch tell you that?”

“He did. Though he thinks this impromptu trip has more to do with a woman than a wolf.”

Arthur just nods and looks away.

Hosea leans in closer. “But I think he’s wrong about which woman,” he whispers.

Arthur turns back to him. Lying to him is useless. It’s hard to get one over on Dutch, but it’s impossible to pull the wool over Hosea’s eyes.

“Did you tell him?” Arthur asks.

Hosea shakes his head. “No. Ain’t my business, is it? Who am I to say what you do with a girl I’m not supposed to even know about?”

“Dutch don’t want me to get close to her.” Arthur hangs his head. “But I ain’t gonna do nothin’ with her.”

“Because he told you not to?”

Arthur meets his gaze. “Because she deserves better than me.”

Hosea gives him a smile. “I don’t know this woman, but I’m inclined to think that she is capable to make her own decisions, including who she wants to be with. And I think it would do her a great disservice to take that choice away from her.” With a final pat on Arthur’s arm, he turns and walks back into camp, leaving Arthur to mull over their conversation.

Hosea and Dutch have worked together well for years, but they’re complete opposites in a lot of ways. Where Dutch could say nothing with a lot of words, Hosea could say everything with just a few. Most of the time, both of them left Arthur trying to discern what they mean from it. This time, it seems like Hosea is telling Arthur to be with Emmeline, in stark contrast to what Dutch wants. That only adds to the conflict already raging inside him.

When Arthur pulls up to Emmeline’s house, he finds her outside chopping wood. Or at least trying to. She’s been at it for two hours at least and has very little to show for it.

“Emma,” he calls out after dismounting. “Miss Emmeline, let me do that.”

She turns to him with a huge smile on her face, though her cheeks are red and her forehead is sweaty from the combined temperature outside and the work she’s been doing. “Arthur. How are you?” She’s a little breathless from the exertion of her chore.

He takes the axe from her hands. “What are you doing chopping wood?”

“It needed done. I figured I should do it.”

“This wood’s too thick for you. You shoulda found smaller sticks.” He places one of the logs on the stump then pushes her back a little bit to give him room.

“You made it look easy. I thought it wouldn’t be so hard.”

As if to demonstrate this point, he brings down the axe and cuts the log in two with one chop, a feat that had alluded Emmeline for the past two hours. “I’ve chopped a lot of wood in my life.”

“I was getting it.” She points to her meager pile off to the side. “It just took a while. And more chops.”

“You’re gonna wear yourself out.” He chops another one easily.

“Well... Did you eat lunch?” she asks excitedly. “I can make you something.”

He looks back to her. “That sounds nice,” he agrees then brings the axe down again.

Emmeline rushes into the house to start the food. Before she decided to chop the firewood, she had gone out to catch some fish, which she’s now cooking. She’s excited to show Arthur that she can catch good sized fish on her own.

By the time she calls him in for the meal, he’s just about done with the wood. The hot weather caused him to remove his jacket and shirt, leaving him in his red union shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the suspenders dangling from his waist. She tries not to stare at the sweaty skin of his chest exposed by the open buttons at the top of his shirt, but she finds the sight very appealing.

Once he sits down at the table, he looks over the plate. “That looks like a nice fish,” he compliments. “You caught it yourself?”

“Yeah. I actually kinda like fishing,” she admits. “I’m not too fond of the killing bit, but the rest of it is fun.”

He cuts himself a bite and eats it. “I’m glad you took to it. I’m gon hunt for ya tomorrow to get you some other meat though. Can’t live on just fish.”

“I got a few eggs out of the chickens already,” she explains excitedly. “I’ll use them for dinner tonight.”

“That’s great, Emma.”

She smiles at him. “If you get some meat, I’ll make us a stew tomorrow.”

“You’re a good cook,” he comments, his fish all but gone. “Real good. I sure missed your cooking back at camp.”

She blushes at the compliment. “Oh, thank you. You can always come in for dinner anytime. I won’t mind.”

Later that night, after dinner, Emmeline finally works up the nerve to show Arthur what she had been working on while he was gone. “You remember, the last time you were here, I saw one of your drawings?”

“Yeah,” he answers, embarrassment already building inside him for what she might say next. Maybe she thought it over and realized it was weird that he drew her. Maybe she wanted him to destroy the drawing.

“Well,” she picks up her notebook and sits in the chair beside him at the table, “I thought I’d try to draw, too.” She opens the book to her first set of drawings.

“Oh.” He lets out a sigh of relief that she didn’t bring up that picture again.

“I know they ain’t good. But I think I’m getting a little better.” She pushes the notebook over to him to see.

“They ain’t bad,” he comments. She needs a little more practice, but it seems to him like she has natural talent. He flips the page and sees a few animal sketches, some flowers, a deer, a few trees. When he turns the page again, all the breath leaves him as he’s met with his own face staring back at him.

“That one’s not good,” she immediately says. “Not the face, anyway. I don’t think I did too bad with this one.” She points to the sketch of him leaning against a tree.

“It ain’t bad. Don’t know about the subject matter,” he says in a half joking way. “I really look like that?”

She giggles at his reaction. “I drew one of me and you.” She turns a few pages to a picture of the two of them fishing. Off to each side, there are bigger sketches of their faces, so she could be more detailed with them. “I kinda like it.”

He looks it over. It actually is pretty good, though it’s a little rough. But the proportions are right and the expressions on their faces are convincingly happy.

“You drawn before?”

“I used to a lot when I was a younger. My father really liked my drawings, but when he died,” she shrugs a shoulder, “I stopped.”

“I’m sorry about your father. But you’re good at this.” He gestures to the book. “If you keep at it, you could make money off of it.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. And if you pick better things to draw,” he chuckles a little at his self deprecating joke.

“I like drawing you,” she replies easily.

He hangs his head sheepishly. “Aw, I’m just an ugly old man.”

“You ain’t ugly.” She takes his chin in her hand and gently pulls his head up to look at her. “You’re handsome. I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

“I think you ain’t seen a lot of men.”

She laughs, taking his statement as a joke. As she pulls her hand away from under his chin, she notices something. “I got your scars wrong in the picture.” She lightly traces the marks on his chin with her thumb.

He doesn’t pull away, though there’s a voice inside him telling himself to. Instead, he’s transfixed, his eyes taking in all the details of her face as she looks over his own.

“How did you get them?” she asks as she flicks her gaze from his chin to his eyes.

“Horse threw me into a fence, years ago,” he tries to answer as normally as he can, though his heart is pounding in his chest at her proximity to him.

His close closeness is affecting her, too, giving her a giddy feeling. She moves her hand from his chin to cradle his cheek then brings her other hand up to trace her finger over the small scar on the bridge of his nose. “And this one?” she asks, leaning closer to him.

Instead of answering, all resolve in him falls away and he pushes himself forward to place his lips on hers. The action is a surprise to her, but it certainly isn’t unwanted. She’s never done this before, but her body instinctively follows his in its movements as if they had done this a thousand times before.

Time seems to stand still and speed up simultaneously, the flow that normally would be constant is anything but. Getting into Emmeline’s bedroom and undressing goes by in a blur, but exploring one another’s bodies for the first time seems like slow motion.

Emmeline had never been with a man before. She’s read some things in books and her mother told her some, but she’s completely inexperienced. It doesn’t stop her from being an enthusiastic participant, though. Being with Arthur feels so right to her, like they belong to each other.

To Emmeline, it’s such a beautiful act sleeping with Arthur. He’s gentle and patient as he makes her feel things that she’s never experienced before, soaring to a high she didn’t think possible. As she comes down from that high, she feels such a connection to the man beside her, more so than with anyone else.

“Arthur,” she says breathlessly.

In response, he wraps his arm around her, pulling her to lay on his chest. It’s only a moment after he places a kiss to her head that the both of them fall asleep.

The next day as the morning sun shines through the window, Arthur is aware that he’s a little overheated as he starts to wake up. Once he becomes more conscious, he realizes that the heat isn’t coming from the sun, but the warm body partially laying on him. Just then, all the memories of what had transpired the night before come into focus. They’re pleasant thoughts, but as the realization of what should come next dawns on him, his face sours.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, he thinks. He was supposed to push her away, keep her from getting close to him. She shouldn’t be with him. Not with the kind of life he leads. He’s a bad man an he doesn’t deserve this good woman. He’ll just get her hurt. Or worse, even.

He lets out a heavy breath and looks down at Emmeline, her hand sprawled across his torso as her head lays delicately on his chest. Only giving himself a moment to revel in the feeling of her in his arms, he slides out of the bed from under her, trying not to wake her. After getting his union suit and pants on, he looks back over his shoulder at her. To his surprise, he’s met with her sleepy eyes looking back at him.

“Good morning,” she says quietly, her voice still heavy with sleep. It doesn’t detract from her wide smile, though.

Arthur looks away and bends down to pick up his shirt, saying nothing.

The smile falls from her face as she sits up. “Is something wrong?”

“What happened last night won’t happen again,” he says lowly as he faces away from her and pulls on his shirt.

Emmeline gets out of bed, not caring that she’s still naked. “Did I do something wrong?”

He turns to face her, but averts his eyes when he sees that she’s standing bare before him. “Will you please get dressed?”

“If I did something wrong, I-I can be better,” she states quickly.

Realizing that she doesn’t care about putting any clothes on, he pulls the blanket off the bed and wraps it around her. “You didn’t do nothing wrong,” he finally replies. “I did.”

“What do you mean?” She takes a step toward him but he takes a step back away from her.

He hangs his head, not having the strength to look at her. “I shouldn’ta done that. Laid wit ya. I shoulda stopped it.”

“What? No, I-“ She doesn’t understand why he’s saying this. How could it have felt so right to her but so wrong to him? “You didn’t do any wrong. It was beautiful.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t do this, Emma. _We_ cant do this.”

“What? What do you mean?” She reaches her hand out to touch him, but he turns away to gather his satchel and holster.

“I’ll check on ya in a few days.” He practically runs out of her room, but she’s right behind him.

“You’re leaving?!” Now her vision is quickly clouded with tears. “Arthur, what’s wrong? Just tell me!” She rushes to him at the door and pulls on his arm. “Please.”

The action gives him pause, but he’s resolute. “I can’t-“ He shakes his head and gently pulls his arm away without fully turning to face her. “Goodbye, Miss Emmeline.”

As Emmeline watches Sparrow gallop away with Arthur in the saddle, she is left confused and completely alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They got together! But Arthur isn’t accepting it too well.  
> Tell me what you guys think about the chapter and where you think things are headed. I love reading your comments!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur thinks over his decision to leave Emmeline

A few days pass but the events of that last night Arthur had with Emmeline still weigh heavily on him. There’s a part of him that loved being with her, but he still feels a tremendous sense of guilt for what happened. If he had only stopped himself, he could have stayed with Emmeline for these past few days. But as it is now, he’s stalking that wolf up in Ambarino trying to get his mind off of the girl in Valentine. 

It doesn’t really work, though. As he rides to the nearest trapper with the wolf’s carcass tied to the back of his horse, all he can think about is that Emmeline has been at her house all alone. Something could have happened to her and he wouldn’t even know. But then again, if he goes running back to her, things will probably just get worse. 

He can’t trust himself around her; he knows that now. And the worst possible outcome he sees happening from him seeing her again would be that she falls in love with him. He doesn’t want that life for her.  _ His _ life for her. He wants her far away from outlaws and everything he lives for. 

It’s best if he stays away now, he’s sure of it. But there’s still that nagging voice in his head telling him to drop everything and go be with her. 

Once he rides back into camp with the extra $46 he got from selling that wolf, he finds Charles sitting around the fire all by himself working on some arrows. 

“Hey, Charles,” he greets. 

The man looks up from his hands to him. “Arthur.”

“You busy right now?”

“Not really.”

“Would you do me a favor?”

Charles thinks a moment. “Sure.” He stands to level his eyes with Arthur’s.

“Would you ride out to that farmhouse outside of Valentine? Check on Emmeline.”

“You can’t do it?”

Arthur lowers his gaze and shakes his head. “Nah. I got somethin’ else to do. But...” he looks up, “would you, please?”

Charles pauses for a moment. “Yeah. I’ll check on her.”

“Just make sure she’s got firewood cut. And maybe hunt a little for her dinner. That’s all really.”

Charles can tell that there’s something going on with Arthur, but it’s not his place to try to drag it out of him if he doesn’t want to talk about it. Arthur has done the same for him in the past, just being there for him without pushing. So he just nods and heads off to his horse, Taima. 

Unbeknownst to Arthur, Micah had been eavesdropping in on his conversation. 

“Well,” Micah slinks up to Arthur. “What was that all about?”

Arthur lets out a frustrated sigh. “None ‘a your business, Micah.”

“Oh, but I think it is. I think it’s all of our business.” He gestures broadly to the camp. “Cuz we should all know where your loyalties lie.”

Arthur glares back at the man. “Loyalty? You ain’t been here but six months an’ you ain’t been nothin’ but trouble!”

Micah nods sarcastically. “I see. But who do you think it was kept all these people fed all them weeks while you were off doing whatever it was you were? Who was it bringin’ in money?” He leans into Arthur’s space. “Cuz it sure weren’t you.”

“Get outta my face, Micah, ‘fore you find yourself with an extra hole in your head,” Arthur growls. 

Micah doesn’t move right away, but after a moment, starts to laugh lowly. “Big talk, cowpoke.” He takes a step back. “ _ Real _ big talk.”

Arthur stands there and watches Micah walk all the way to the hitching post where his horse, Baylock, is. He watches the man get up into the saddle and ride off away from camp. When he finally moves from the spot he was standing, he’s left wondering just how much of that conversation Micah heard. And just how much he knows. 

Meanwhile, Charles rides up to Emmeline’s house. It takes a bit to get there, since their camp is at Clemens Point outside of Rhodes, but it’s not a bad ride. Before he steps down from his saddle, Emmeline opens the door, coming out of her house to greet him. 

“H-Hello, Mr. Smith,” she calls out cordially, though she can’t hide her disappointment that Arthur hadn’t been the one arriving. 

“Hello, Emmeline.” He walks up to her door. “Arthur wanted me to check in on you.”

“He couldn’t come?” she asks, though she isn’t sure if she wants the answer. All she can think is that she had done something wrong to make him hate her. The thought just about breaks her heart. 

“He was busy,” he answers, not elaborating at all. He figures something happened between the two of them that made Arthur want to stay away, but he doesn’t want to put himself in between them. “I’m going to get you some rabbit for dinner. Then I’ll cut up some firewood. Do you need anything else?”

She shakes her head. “No. I’m fine, really. You don’t have to go through all that trouble for me,” she replies sadly. 

“It’s no trouble.” Without another word, he sets off to the woods to hunt for rabbit. 

Once he leaves, Emmeline has the thought that if Arthur won’t see her, how will she make things right between them? The only thing she can think to do is write him a letter, so that’s exactly what she does. She finishes with what she wants to say just before Charles comes back with the rabbit meat. 

“Thank you.” She takes it from him. “I’ll cook this up. You’re staying to eat, right?”

He nods. “I’ll cut the wood while you’re cooking.” He turns and goes back outside before she can say anything to him. 

She lets out a sigh. Charles seems like a nice enough man, but he’s not exactly good company. He’s all business, it seems. And he’s certainly not much of a conversationalist. 

Later that night before Charles leaves, Emmeline stops him. “Could you give this to Arthur for me?” She hands him the folded up letter. “It’s... uh. I just wanted to tell him...”

Charles takes it and puts it in his satchel. “I’ll give it to him,” he replies simply. 

“Thank you for helping me.” She’s sad, but she doesn’t want to be rude to this man. 

“You don’t really need much help. You’re doing well out here.”

She nods. “Well... Have a safe ride back.”

Since Charles had come out anyway, he decides not to go back to camp empty handed. By the time he’s back at camp with a deer carcass across his shoulders, it’s well past sundown. Once he drops the deer off at Pearson’s, he walks over to Arthur’s tent, hoping he’s still awake so he can pass off Emmeline’s letter. There’s no such luck, though, as Arthur’s tent flaps are pulled down. 

It isn’t until the next morning that Charles finally hands the letter off to Arthur as he’s pouring himself some coffee. 

“Emmeline wanted me to give this to you.” Charles holds out the letter. 

“Oh.” He takes it in his free hand. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. She has a good setup out there. I don’t think she needs to be checked up on.”

Arthur scrunches up his face, reacting before he can school his features. 

Charles can see that Arthur doesn’t really like the prospect of her staying alone out there. “I’ll still check on her if you want me to,” he replies. 

Not really knowing what to say, Arthur just nods and heads off to his tent to read the letter. He sits down on his cot and gently unfolds the paper. 

 

_ Dear Arthur, _

_ I want to tell you that no matter what, I will treasure the time we spent together. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all that you did for me. Not only did you teach me the skills I needed to take care of myself, but you blessed me with your companionship.  _

_ I never really had a friend before you. I love my mother dearly and always will, but I see now that she was too concerned with my safety to let me meet anyone else. I didn’t realize just how lonely I really was until I actually had a friend. And now I’ve done something to make you leave me. _

_ I will forever hold the events of our last night together dear in my heart. You made me feel things that I never thought possible in this life. Sharing my bed with you was so beautiful to me, Arthur, but I understand that maybe it wasn’t the same for you. If I did anything wrong, I apologize whole heartedly and I hope you’ll give me a chance to make things up to you. If it’s more that you just don’t want me as your woman, I understand that, too. But please know that if we can’t be together in that way, I would very much still want you as my friend. Even if we only see each other every once in a while. Or maybe we could just talk through letters. Whatever the case, I hope you are happy and well and I very much would like to speak with you again.  _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Emma _

 

He reads the letter hurriedly, then again more slowly. As he reads it for a third time, he recognizes a familiar feeling deep within his chest. It’s his heart breaking. But this time, he did it all to himself.

It’s not like he didn’t have a hand in his own heartbreak the first time around with Mary. But this is  _ entirely _ on him. There is a woman that he cares for greatly and she’s giving herself to him freely. He could just accept it. He could run to her right now and tell her she can be his.

But he feels that would be selfish because he can’t be there for her all the time. He would be split between his responsibilities to the gang and being with her, just like with Mary. He doesn’t want to do that to Emmeline. No matter how much he wants to be with her, he’s convinced himself she’s much better off without him. 

“Uncle Arthur!” Jack’s excited voice breaks Arthur out of his thoughts as the boy comes rushing into his tent.

“Whoa there, Jack. What is it?” Arthur sets the letter down on his bed to hold his hands out, stopping the little boy from careening right into him.

“I found a monster out by the water.”

“What are you doing near the water? You ain’t supposed to be out there.” 

Jack grabs ahold of Arthur’s hand and pulls, wanting him to follow him. “Come on, Uncle Arthur. You gotta see it.”

He lets out a breath before rising from his cot. “Fine. Show me this monster.”

It’s just a short walk to the edge of Flat Iron Lake, though it’s even quicker with Jack’s excitement making him run. Once Jack’s “monster” comes into view, the boy starts to run over to it.

“See, Uncle Arthur.” He points down to the rotting, waterlogged carcass of an animal. Probably a deer, if Arthur had to guess.

Arthur rushes over to Jack and pulls him away from it. “Don’t play with that, Jack. It ain’t a monster. It’s just a deer.”

“A deer?” The boy looks down at it curiously. “It doesn’t look like a deer.”

“It’s been dead for a while floating in the water. That’s why it don’t look right.”

“Oh.”

“You find animals like this, don’t mess with ‘em, okay? They can make ya sick.”

“Okay, Uncle Arthur.”

“You didn’t touch it, did ya?”

“I did with a stick.”

He laughs a little. “Alright then. Why don’t we head back to camp and you can tell your mom you need a washing.”

The boy makes a disappointed noise. “I just had a bath.”

Arthur just chuckles and scruffs Jack’s hair. As they walk back up into camp, Arthur notices that people seem to be standing around. And Micah is in the center of the camp, speaking loudly. Once he gets closer, he realizes that Micah is reading from a piece of paper. And he recognizes the words spilling from his mouth. 

Micah doesn’t notice Arthur’s approach as he continues to read from the letter, intoning it with a teasing voice. “...made me feel things that I never thought possible in this life. Sharing my bed with you was so beautiful to me, Arthur, but I understand-“

Arthur sees red and in a furious rage, he rushes over to tackle Micah to the ground. He swings his fists wildly at the man beneath him, blackening both eyes and busting his nose before Bill and Kieran pull him off. 

“You piece of shit!” Arthur screams, struggling with the men holding him as Micah slowly rises from the ground.

All the blond haired man does is laugh under his breath as he wipes his bloody lip. “What, cowpoke? Don’t want everyone to know about the whore you’ve been sneaking away to see?”

Bill and Kieran can barely restrain Arthur from attacking Micah again. That is, until Dutch’s booming voice falls over the camp. 

“Enough!” he screams. “Arthur, calm yourself. Micah, take a walk and shut your mouth.”

Arthur settles, but he still breathes heavily as his anger barely dissipates. 

Dutch looks Arthur right in the eye. “My tent. Now. Everyone else, find something to do!” As he walks back to his tent, he finds the piece of paper lying just where Micah dropped it. He picks it up and continues on his way. 

“You okay?” Kieran asks quietly to Arthur. 

“I’m fine,” he growls out, shaking off the two men at his sides to follow Dutch. 

Once Arthur walks through the flaps of the tent, he finds the man sitting on his bed, reading Emmeline’s letter. 

“Dutch-“ he starts, but is cut off by a tut as the older man continues to read. 

After a few moments Dutch neatly folds the letter and places it on the table beside him. He calmly rises to stand in front of Arthur. 

“Let me-“ Arthur is cut off by Dutch’s fist connecting with his face. It isn’t the hardest of punches, but it gets his point across. 

“I  _ told _ you not to touch her,” he growls lowly. 

Arthur stares at Dutch for a moment, unsure of what to say. “It just happened, Dutch. I didn’t mean for it to.”

“Did you tell her about me? Did you tell her I’m her father?”

“No. Of course not. I told her your name. And Hosea’s. Said you raised me. That’s it. That’s all she knows. She don’t know about the gang.”

Dutch pulls out his handkerchief and wipes the drop blood from Arthur’s mouth. “I don’t want you seeing her again. You got too close. You let  _ her _ get too close.”

Arthur drops his gaze. “I know. I’m gonna stay away from her. I had Charles go out yesterday to see her. He said she’s doing well enough on her own.”

“Good.” Dutch leans forward into his space. “Don’t you ever disobey me like that again, Arthur,” he whispers lowly.

“I won’t.”

Dutch pats him on the cheek and takes a step back. “Good. Your place is here with me, son. Don’t you forget that.” He turns back to sit on his cot. “Why don’t you go and see if there’s a stagecoach to rob or something. And don’t you fight with Micah like that again.”

Arthur nods. “Okay, Dutch.”

When Arthur walks out of the tent, he finds Micah standing right beside it, looking a little worse for wear from the fight. 

“You heard the man,” Micah teases. “Seems like you owe me an apology.”

“I ain’t gonna fight with you. But I sure as hell ain’t gonna apologize.” He turns away from the man and walks toward Sparrow. “Why don’t you just leave me the hell alone from now on.”

Micah just chuckles lowly to himself as he watches Arthur mount up. It certainly has been an eventful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the angsty chapter, but it was necessary for me to set some stuff up. I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave a comment, since I love getting feedback.  
> As always, thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emmeline and Arthur reunite, but it doesn’t go as either would have intended.

Having heard nothing back from Arthur after sending off a letter with Charles to give to him, Emmeline concludes that he wants nothing to do with her. It hurts. A lot, actually. She sheds many tears when the realization hits her that he’s not going to contact her. Her only friend, the only person she felt any connection to in the world would never talk to her again.

She pushes on, despite her sadness. Traveling into Valentine every few days, she sells her fish to the butcher on the corner for the money she needs to buy her supplies. She’s very nervous at first to walk around by herself, but after a while, she realizes that people mostly just pass her by, not paying her much mind.

Once she gets home from her trips into town, she always lets out a sigh as she opens her door. Her small cabin seems so large and empty when she crosses the threshold. To keep her mind off of the deafening silence, she buries herself in books, rereading ones she’s read a million times before in addition to new ones she saves up her money to buy. 

She also practices her drawing skills. Drawing Arthur is too painful for her, so she focuses on illustrating Miss Susie just right. Her chickens, who all have their own names, are also frequent models for her. With all the time she spends putting pencil to paper, her pictures become more refined and detailed. She even tacks the best ones up on her walls as decorations.

During the same several weeks, Arthur is restless. He spends much of his time away from camp, whether he’s hunting, fishing, or just exploring the land around him. Pearson’s wagon never runs low with all the animals Arthur is bringing back. Plus, he’s given Pearson enough supplies to make him some satchels and spruce up the camp a little to boot. Even though Arthur is choosing to spend more time alone, he still gets roped into the odd job at times.

Just a couple days after the situation with Emmeline’s letter, Arthur sits next to the lake, drawing a picture of ducks in flight when Dutch comes up to him.

“Got something for you,” he says in an almost sing song way.

Arthur closes his journal and stashes it away in his satchel before turning back to the older man. “What’s that?”

Dutch pulls his hand out from around his back to show Arthur a shiny silver badge. “You and me are officially deputies of this fine city of Rhodes!” he calls out jovially.

Arthur just stares at the object for a moment. “What in the hell do you mean we’re deputies?” He gets up and takes the badge from Dutch.

“I got the good sheriff drunk and convinced him to let me and you help him with his little Braithwaite problem.”

“Braithwaite problem?”

“You haven’t noticed that the two most prominent families here seem to have a decades long blood feud going on?”

Arthur fiddles with the little bit of metal in his hand, tracing his thumb over the recessed letters of the word “deputy”. “Yeah, I noticed. I just didn’t think it would be  _ our _ problem.”

“It’s not going to be our  _ problem _ , my boy. It’ll be our  _ gain _ .”

“How do ya figure that?”

“Seems there’s rumors about town that the Grays and the Braithwaites are sitting on a pile of Confederate gold. I think if we get them distracted enough, we can swoop right in and take it.”

“Confederate gold?” Arthur can’t help but laugh. “There’s rumors of Confederate gold bein’ buried  _ all over _ the south! They ain’t nothin’ but  _ rumors _ , though, Dutch.”

Dutch’s face falls into an unimpressed expression. “I’m inclined to believe them in this case, Arthur.”

“Why?”

“Because why else would these families be fighting each other so hard if not for money?”

Arthur shrugs as he scratches at his beard. “I don’t know. People fight for all sorts ‘a reasons.”

“Well, that gold’s out there. I can  _ feel _ it.”

“I ain’t sure ‘bout that, Dutch. If one of them families was sitting on a cache of gold, they’d ‘a spent it by now. Even if they ain’t exactly hurting for money. You know rich people always find something to spend it on.”

Dutch lets out a little huff. “I also know that rich people are good at squirreling away money they don’t want the government to find out about,” he replies.

Arthur nods once in agreement. “I guess.” Though Dutch’s statement is true, Arthur still isn’t completely convinced. “Ain’t they into liquor and tobacco?” he changes the subject, not wanting to really start an argument.

“Yeah. The Braithwaites are, indeed, in the moonshine business, now that you mention it. And as Sheriff Gray’s new deputies, we’ve been tasked with destroying one of their stills.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Dutch repeats, a little annoyed. “You know, I was pretty excited to get the chance to work with you since we haven’t done so in a while, but if you’re gonna be like this-“

“I’ll do it,” Arthur finds himself saying. He doesn’t really want to, but Dutch’s guilt trip was successful in making Arthur feel bad about being away from him so much.

After that mission, though, Arthur’s already low enthusiasm in getting in the middle of the blood feud between the families drops even more. That’s when he makes himself scarce. To save himself from another guilt trip from Dutch, though, he makes sure to keep providing for the camp. If he keeps everyone fed and the money box full, Dutch won’t really be able to complain. At least too much.

After turning in some pelts to the trapper in Saint Denis, Arthur finds himself riding north on the easternmost shore on the outskirts of the city. For some unknown reason, he starts to wander around the little islands out there, avoiding alligators and getting stuck in the mud. Out of the corner of his eye, he happens to catch the sight of a lock box, half dug out of the mud underneath a tree. Once he opens it, he’s disappointed to find that instead of money, it’s filed with nothing but old letters dated to the early 1800s. He’s about to straighten back up to leave when the name “Lucille Braithwaite” catches his eye.

Upon reading the letters, Arthur pieces together that many years ago, Lucille Braithwaite and Douglas Gray, of the infamous Rhodes families, were in love with each other. As interesting as that historical tidbit is, it’s the letter in which Lucille instructs Douglas to steal gold from her family and as well as his own in order to help fund the abolition of slavery.

Arthur lets out a shocked chuckle at this development. After shoving all the letters in his satchel, he makes a bee line for the camp back at Clemens Point. Once he gets there, he immediately hands Dutch the letters as the man stands by his own tent.

“What’s this?” Dutch asks as he sifts through the papers.

“There ain’t no gold,” Arthur comments simply.

From close by, Hosea hears this exchange and walks over. “No gold where?”

“Those families are fightin’ over nothin’,” Arthur starts to explain as Dutch reads over the letters. “Two members of their own families worked  _ together _ to take all that gold. Those families didn’t steal from each other; they stole from themselves.”

Hosea seems confused at first. “So where’s the gold?”

Dutch lets out a huff as he shoves the letters toward Hosea. “It’s gone. Given away almost a hundred years ago.”

Hosea takes the papers and starts to read them himself.

“Damnit!” Dutch calls out. “That gold could’ve gotten us where we needed to be.”

“Seems there were a couple of good-hearted people in those inbred families at one time,” Hosea comments. “Gave all that money to try and stop the slave trade. It’s noble.”

Dutch scoffs. “Puts us out.”

“We should back off from them,” Hosea says, but is met with a glare from Dutch.

“Just because two people acted nobly a hundred years ago doesn’t mean the people here now are innocent.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hosea corrects. “I meant that they’re starting to get suspicious. And our profit margin just went way down. We need to cut our losses before we get run out of this town and attract more attention than we already have. Pinkertons are on our trail already. Remember, they found our first camp.”

Arthur agrees, but he waits to see what Dutch will say before he voices his opinion.

Dutch finally speaks up after casting his gaze down. “Yeah. I suppose we should stop playing those families.”

From out of nowhere, Micah comes stomping towards them. He had been eavesdropping on the conversation, apparently, and is none too happy with what he heard.

“What?!” the blond man calls out. “So while Arthur has been sulking around pining for that girl and letting us all pick up the slack around here, he just  _ happens _ across a bunch ‘a letters that  _ just so happen _ to confirm just why he hasn’t been helping out with everything. Seems awfully convenient to me.”

Before Arthur can bite anything back, Hosea cuts in. “You really think that Arthur went out, found old paper with the Braithwaite’s letterhead,” he holds the letters up harshly to show Micah, “used a fountain pen to write in a script he’s never used before, and concocted all this back story  _ just _ to get us to back off?” He gives Micah a stern look. 

Micah, knowing that he has been successfully told off, but not wanting to admit that, just shrugs. “Maybe.”

Hosea rolls his eyes. “Have you always been dumber ‘n a box of rocks?” he asks Micah.

In response, Micah throws Dutch a look before stomping off.

“Why do we keep him around?” Arthur comments.

“Arthur,” Dutch chides. “He’s still rough, but I see something in him.”

“Don’t know what,” Arthur mutters under his breath.

Dutch hears him just fine, though. “Follow me, Arthur. We need to talk about something.”

The two men walk out to the lake shore, far enough away that no one can listen in. 

“I ain’t never gonna like Micah,” Arthur starts to defend himself, assuming this little talk will be about their ongoing feud. 

“I know. I don’t wanna talk about that.” Dutch takes out a cigar and lights it. “I saw Emmeline in Valentine a couple weeks ago.”

Arthur looks over to him with wide eyes. He doesn’t say anything, though, waiting for Dutch to finish. 

“She was selling off some fish to the butcher. She looked like she was doing good for herself.”

Arthur nods. “That’s good.”

“The butcher told me he sees her a few times a week. I gave him some extra money to give her when he sees her.”

“He actually gonna do that instead of pocket it?” Arthur responds skeptically.

“If he knows what’s best for him, he will.” He takes a puff on his cigar, letting the smoke cloud the air between him and Arthur. “Despite what happened between you two, I need to thank you for teaching her what you did to give her a chance.”

Arthur doesn’t know what to say to that. “She’s smart. She just needed someone to show her. Took to fishing pretty well.”

“Despite the teacher,” Dutch jokes. 

“Yeah.” Arthur chuckles. 

“She’s a beautiful girl,” Dutch comments. “A good man is going to sweep her up in no time.”

Arthur schools his features despite his chest tightening at the thought of another man making her his wife.

One day, Arthur finds himself around Valentine, so he decides to run into the store to stock up on coffee. After he grabs what he went in there for, he ends up buying a few extras, too. Oat cakes for Sparrow, some apples, too, and chocolate bars. Once he exits with his satchel now completely full, he sees a familiar horse with a small cart hitched behind it and, of course, a familiar woman in the seat.

He thinks for a moment that he should duck back into the store, go out the back to avoid Emmeline all together. He finds that his feet are already taking him closer to her, though.

When she finally notices him walking beside her, she pulls Miss Susie to a stop and stares at him a moment. Before he can say anything to greet her, her expression falls from neutral to something more pained as her eyes well up with tears. 

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “Don’t cry, Emma. Please.”

She looks away from him quickly and covers her face with her hands. “I’m sorry.”

An voice from behind them suddenly calls out, “You wanna move it, mister. I got places to be.” 

Arthur looks back to see an angry man trying to maneuver his own cart around Emmeline’s. He holds back from responding to the guy none too kindly. Instead, he jumps up beside Emmeline and steers her horse off the road and into the alleyway. 

“Are you alright, Emma?” he asks softly. 

She doesn’t remove her hands from her face, too embarrassed for Arthur to see her so upset. 

Arthur lets out a heavy breath. “Please look at me.”

She takes her hands away, wiping at her eyes before looking up at him. “I didn’t expect to see you,” she replies quietly. 

He looks away before jumping down off the cart. When he turns back, he holds his arms out to her, prompting her to step down, too. Leading her out of the alley, they move to stand behind one of the buildings for a little more privacy. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice still choked with emotion. 

“You don’t got nothin’ to be sorry about.”

“Did Charles give you my letter?”

He scratches at his beard. He really has let it get a little unruly. “I read it.”

She nods. There was that little bit of hope in her that he hadn’t read it and that their time apart could be explained by something else. But, no. He knew she wanted to talk with him and chose not to. 

“I see,” she replies sadly. “Can you just tell me what I did wrong?”

“You didn’t do nothin’ wrong. It’s just...” he trails off. “You’re better off without me.”

She looks up at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“Find yourself a good man that’ll take care of you.”

“ _ You’re _ a good man,” she comments. 

“I ain’t, Emmeline. I ain’t a good man at all.”

“How can you say that after everything you’ve done?”

“You don’t know of everything I’ve done.”

“I know what you did for me.”

He shakes his head. “Emma, please understand-“

“Just tell me you don’t want me.”

He looks up to her. “What?”

“I’ll be alright if you say you don’t want me. We can just be friends. And... if you don’t want to see me, we can write letters. Please, Arthur...” She chokes back tears. “You’re my only friend. Don’t just leave me.”

It absolutely breaks his heart to see her pleading like this. But this is all for the best for her. Keeping her away from him is better for her. Right?

“I’m an outlaw,” he blurts out, though he’s not really sure why de does. 

“What?”

“I’m an outlaw,” he repeats. “I’ve stolen. Lied. Hurt people. Killed people. Spent more ‘n a few nights in jail.”

“An outlaw?” She blinks hard, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. “I-I thought you worked for for Uncle Tacitus.”

“Ain’t no such man,” he explains. “It’s just an alias we give out so people can write to us. It changes depending on where we’re at. Tacitus Kilgore. Aiden O’Malley. Some others. They’re just names.”

She shakes her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Emma. You’re too good to be in this life. I’m a bad man. I run with bad men. You should just forget all about me. Act like I never existed.”

She stares up at him, trying to process everything. “Did you steal from me?” she finally asks. 

“No,” he answers automatically. 

“Did you plan to? Did you plan to  _ hurt _ me?”

“No,” he responds emphatically. “I would  _ never _ hurt you. Or take from you like that.”

“Then you’re still a good man, Arthur Morgan. With everything you did for me, you’re a  _ good man _ . You’re not changing my mind in that.”

He lets out a sigh. “You have to understand, Emmeline-“ He pauses when he sees the odd expression on her face. “You alright?”

Emmeline quickly turns away from Arthur, taking a few steps before starting to dry heave into the bushes. 

“Shit.” Arthur rushes over to place his hand in her back as she’s bent over. “You sick?”

She stands back up and takes a deep breath once she’s done. “Yes, I think so. I threw up both my breakfast and lunch today. And I did so yesterday, too. The day before that, I was queasy.” She wipes her mouth on her sleeve. “I was on my way to see the doctor when I saw you.”

The thought that Emmeline could possibly be sick has Arthur worried, so he quickly leads her to the nearby doctor’s office. Just as they get to the door, the doctor walks out with his keys in his hand.

“She’s sick,” Arthur calls out.

The doctor doesn’t even turn around, but continues with putting his key in the lock. “Sorry. She’ll have to come back tomorrow. I’m closed.”

Arthur suddenly grabs the man but the collar and pins him to the wall beside the door. “She’s sick,” Arthur growls in the man’s face.

The doctor smartly decides not to make the man before him angry. “Alright, sir. I-I’ll see her.” Once Arthur releases him, the doctor unlocks the door and opens it. “Exam room is in the back.”

As the doctor closes the front door, Arthur leads Emmeline into the back room. She takes her seat in the exam chair as the doctor enters.

“Are you her husband?” he asks Arthur.

“Uh. Yes,” Arthur lies. He’s not going to risk this doctor not seeing Emmeline because he might think it improper to examine a single woman.”

Emmeline isn’t fond of lying, but she follows Arthur’s lead nevertheless. “He’s my husband,” she asserts, though it’s unprompted.

The doctor gives her a look. “So, what seems to be bothering you Mrs...?”

“Callahan,” Arthur provides.

“Mrs. Callahan.” The doctor waits for her to answer his question.

“My stomach,” she answers. “I’ve been queasy for a few days. I threw up earlier today and yesterday, too.”

He places his hand on her head. “Any chills?”

“No.”

“Diarrhea?”

“No.”

“Headaches?”

“No.”

“Eaten anything new recently.”

Emmeline thinks. “No.”

He straightens up and looks over to Arthur. “How long have you been married?”

“Six months,” Arthur pulls out of nowhere.

The doctor turns back to Emmeline. “When was your last monthly?”

“Uh.” Emmeline thinks. “It was... uh.”

“More than a month ago?” the doctor cuts in.

“Maybe two,” Emmeline finally answers.

“Were you having them regularly before this?”

“Yes. I think so.”

Arthur’s eyes go wide once he realizes what the doctor is thinking.

“I assume you have been having marital relations,” the doctor comments.

Both Emmeline and Arthur’s faces go red.

“Well,” the doctor calls out too cheerfully to the room, “I’m inclined to think that Mrs. Callahan is in a family way. Though we wont be sure for another month or so.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur asks in a voice much higher than his usual one.

The doctor thinks a moment. “Have you been fatigued lately?” he asks Emmeline.

“Yes. I’ve found myself taking naps in the afternoon,” she answers.

“Are you able to stand any pressure to your chest?”

“Not really,” she answers, recalling how tender her breasts have been lately. “Is that bad?”

“It’s a fairly common symptom of early pregnancy,” the doctor answers.

“Pregnancy,” Emmeline whispers the word.

“Are you  _ sure _ ?” Arthur repeats, his brain still trying to come to terms with everything.

The doctor chuckles. “As sure as I can be this early on, Mr. Callahan. But with a young, healthy woman like that, I don’t suspect it could be anything else.” 

He goes back out to the main room for a moment, leaving Arthur and Emmeline alone in the room. Both of them are too shocked to even say anything to each other. When he comes back in, he hands a paper off to Emmeline.

“Here are the names of some midwives in the area. It won’t hurt to talk to them. But if your menses return, this episode may be diet related, so you’ll have to watch that. If you still cease to bleed and your abdomen starts to grow, you’ll know you’re with child.”

Both Arthur and Emmeline are in shock at the news. Neither of them say anything as the doctor hurries them out of his office so he can finally lock up for the day. They stand there dumbstruck for a few minutes before Emmeline speaks up.

“Can we talk about this?” she asks, unsure what Arthur will do.

He turns to her and looks right into her eyes. “I’ll drive you home and then we can talk.” After unhitching Sparrow so she can follow them, he helps Emmeline into the cart then sits beside her, taking the reins. They’re both quiet for the short ride, waiting until they’re in the privacy of Emmeline’s cabin to start to talk. 

As they start to pull up to the house, Arthur sees two strange horses and two riders to go with them standing near the front door of the house. The men are dressed in nice suits complete with bowler hats and badges that Arthur has never seen before. They’re certainly not with the local law, so these must be the Pinkertons that Hosea mentioned. 

“Isn’t this a surprise?” the older man of the two calls out as Arthur pulls up. “Arthur Morgan, I presume.”

Arthur quickly jumps down and rounds the wagon to help Emmeline down. He makes sure to push her behind him as they approach the men. 

“Who are you?” Arthur growls out. 

“I’m Agent Milton,” the man closest to him says. “And this is Agent Ross.” He gestures back to the man holding the shotgun. 

“Leave. Now,” Arthur demands. 

“No need to be rude, Mr. Morgan. I’m not here for you. I’m here for Miss Van Der Linde.” He gestures to Emmeline. 

Arthur’s eyes go wide. This man should  _ not _ know anything about Emmeline. Especially that she’s actually Dutch’s daughter.

Thinking that this must be a misunderstanding, Emmeline steps out from behind Arthur to address Milton. “That’s not my name. I’m Emmeline Turner. You’re looking for someone else.”

Arthur steps forward, once again putting himself in front. 

Milton snickers at her. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

“Know what?” Emmeline peeks her head out to ask. 

Arthur lets out a huff. “She ain’t a part of this, so  _ leave _ .”

Milton seems amused. “This is quite the situation Dutch orchestrated, isn’t it? The son he raised but didn’t father found in the company of the daughter he fathered but never raised.”

Emmeline steps out again, but Arthur still covers her with his arm. “My father was Joseph Turner,” she insists. “Not that other man you said.”

Milton leans forward smugly. “You’re Dutch Van Der Linde’s bastard, sweetheart,” he insists. “Your mama must’ve been a busy girl.”

“Enough,” Arthur says to shut him up. “What do you want?”

Milton straightens up. “Since you’re here, Mr. Morgan, I’m going to offer you a deal. Get Dutch to meet me so I can bring him in and I won’t harm a hair on anyone else’s head in that gang of yours. Not the women. Not the old man. Not that little family. Not the negro,” he continues to show off just how much he knows the gang. “Not the Mexican or the Indian negro or the Irishman or the O’Driscoll. The old drunk or the angry drunk or the sailor. The magician or the priest  _ or _ the German. All them safe if you just get Dutch out in the open. Alone.”

Arthur pauses a moment, thinking about all those people and their potential safety. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally replies. 

“Did Dutch tell you what a busy boy he was while you were away? Of did he keep what he did from you?” Milton continues with a smirk on his face. “Did he talk about the girl he murdered in cold blood in Blackwater? Or how about the train he robbed belonging to Leviticus Cornwall, killing all the crew. Did he even mention that he killed half of Strawberry, including lawmen  _ and _ citizens?”

Arthur listens on. He knows what Milton is trying to do. He’s trying to get Arthur to turn on Dutch. And while all those things that he was talking about are troubling, Arthur isn’t about to betray the man he sees as a father without at least getting his side of things.

“I haven’t seen Dutch in months, so he ain’t told me nothin’,” Arthur continues to lie.

Milton lets out an angry breath through his flared nostrils. “Then I’ll have to go back to my original plan. I’m going to take the girl and see if Dutch comes for her.”

Arthur immediately draws his pistol causing Ross to aim his shotgun in Arthur’s direction. 

“That ain’t gonna happen,” Arthur growls. 

“Put the gun down,” Ross demands, but Arthur doesn’t take his eyes off Milton. 

“If you know so much about me,” Arthur starts in a low tone,” then you know I ain’t exactly a slow draw. You really think your man can get a shot off before I put a bullet in your brain?”

Milton chuckles under his breath, trying to hide his nervousness upon hearing that statement. After making his decision on what to do, he takes a step forward. “Until next time, Mr. Morgan.” He and Ross start to walk over to their horses. “Miss Van Der Linde,” he tips his hat to her before mounting his horse and leaving. 

“What was all that?” Emmeline asks once the pair of men are out of sight. 

Arthur finally holsters his gun once the threat is gone. “Grab some clothes.” He turns to cut Miss Susie loose from the wagon. 

“Who were they?”

“Emma, go pack a bag,” he says more forcefully. “We gotta go. Now.”

“Was that all true?” she chokes out. 

Arthur walks over to her, laying his hands on her shoulders so she’ll listen to him. “Please, Emma. I’ll tell you everything once we get safe. I promise. But we gotta leave. They might be back with more men and I ain’t letting them take you.”

She finally nods, realizing that Arthur is deadly serious right now. After running inside to shove some clothes into her saddlebag, she comes back out to Arthur saddling up Miss Susie. 

“We’re gonna be riding all day.” He takes the bag from Emmeline and secures it to the saddle. “If ya need to take a rest, we will. But if we can keep riding... I’d just rather make sure those lawmen aren’t on our tail.”

Emmeline doesn’t fight him and allows him to help her up in the saddle.

Arthur looks up at her. “Just keep up with me, okay? I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you.” His eyes fall to her stomach before he turns away to mount Sparrow. Just a few moments later, they ride off, though Emmeline doesn’t know what the destination is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some stuff happened. Since I want people to be able to get their Arthur fix without getting spoiled for the game, a certain part from his past (if you’ve played the game, you know what I’m talking about) won’t ever be mentioned here.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emmeline and Arthur must hide from the Pinkertons, leading them back to the Van Der Linde camp.

Arthur and Emmeline ride the whole rest of the day, only stopping a handful of times to relieve themselves and get a bite to eat. They are mostly silent the whole way, except for when Emmeline points out that they’ve double backed for the second time.

“Just in case someone’s following us,” Arthur explains.

Arthur’s meandering trail makes the ride all the longer. It isn’t until well after the sun sets that they finally start to ride into a little town.

“Stay close to me,” Arthur comments back to Emmeline. “The people here ain’t exactly trustworthy.”

She looks around at the dilapidated buildings, half sunk boats docked beside ruined docks, and drunks stumbling around the street openly. “What is this place?”

“Van Horne,” Arthur answers. “There’s a hotel just down the road. We’re gonna get a room and stay a couple days.”

“Here?”

“Law don’t come around here much, so it’s the best place for us to lay low.”

After they hitch their horses and pay for the room, Arthur leads Emmeline upstairs. Once they’re inside their room, Emmeline looks around with an uncertain look on her face. The room is well worn, the wood on the walls and floors are cracked and gray and the sparse furniture looks like it may break at any second. “We’re staying  _ here _ ?” she asks again.

He lets out a sigh. “I know, Emma. This ain’t exactly the best accommodations, but it’s better than wherever them Pinkertons woulda took us to.” He brushes off the bed then pushes his hand into the mattress to test it. “Ain’t bad. Go ahead and take the bed. Get some rest. I’ll stay up and keep watch.” He turns his back to her to turn down the thin blanket, hoping she’ll take his suggestion. 

“Arthur.”

He doesn’t turn back. “What?”

“Was all that true?”

He stops what he’s doing and turns to face her. “You need some rest.” He gestures to the bed, still trying to delay this conversation.

“You promised you’d tell me,” she pleads quietly.

He scratches at the back of his neck before he starts. “I did, didn’t I?” He sits down on the edge of the bed and looks up to her. “It’s true,” he admits as he takes off his hat and sets it on the nightstand.

Emmeline moves to sit down next to him and takes a moment for that to sink in. “Dutch? The man that took you in? He’s my father?”

“Yes,” Arthur answers simply.

“So my mother...” she gets choked up, “stepped out on my father-“ she stops herself, “ _ Joseph _ ,” she corrects.

“No.” Arthur lets out a breath. “I weren’t there for all this, but Dutch told me what happened all them years ago. He...” he thinks of how to say it, “ _ visited _ your mama every few months after they met. One time when he saw her, she was pregnant with you. I guess Joseph stepped up before Dutch even knew she was with child. Joseph agreed to marry your mother and raise you as his own. All three ‘a them agreed that would be best, that you never know Dutch was your real father. He agreed to stay away.”

She blinks a few times trying to come to terms with all of this. “So they lied to me. My whole life.”

He lets out a sigh. “You gotta understand, it was for your own good. They didn’t want you around the outlaw life. Your mama was so scared of you getting hurt because of the way Dutch lives. But when she knew she was gonna pass, I guess she was more afraid of you being alone in the end, that you wouldn’t be able to take care of yourself. That’s why she wrote Dutch and asked him to look after you.”

“But  _ you _ looked after me.”

“Dutch... He still didn’t want you to get too close to us. That’s why he sent me. And that’s why he didn’t want me to tell you about him.” 

“Oh.” Emmeline isn’t quite sure how to take that. 

“But he, uh,” Arthur continues hesitantly, “he knows that we... He read your letter. And he weren’t too happy with me about... what happened. He forbade me from seein’ you again.”

“What?” she bites back. “Is that why you never came back to me?”

“Well...” He scratches the back of his neck in nervousness as he casts his gaze down. “I agreed with him,” he admits. “I didn’t mean to...” he searches for the right word, “have those kinda feelings for you. And then it happened and I was scared cuz...” He lets out a breath. “Cuz I don’t know if I can be the kinda man you deserve. So I thought it would be best if I just left. I thought you’d just forget about me and go on with your life.” When he finally looks up to her, he’s surprised to see her slightly angry expression.

“So I don’t get a say?” 

“Well-“

She doesn’t give him the chance to finish that thought. “So you and a man I’ve never met know what’s best for me better than I do?” she asks, anger leaching more into her voice. “You have no idea how lonely I was after you left. I thought I did something wrong. I thought you  _ hated _ me,” she explains.

Arthur casts his head down, understanding why she’s feeling the way she is. Not to mention that Hosea had expressly told him that it would be a mistake to just run away without talking it over with her first. It turns out, he was right.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he says genuinely. “I’m a fool.” He looks over to her with a serious expression. “But the way I live is dangerous. I know I shoulda told you all this sooner when we got close, but I really just wanted you safe. And now...” His eyes trail over her stomach automatically without him thinking about it. 

She follows his gaze and sets her hand on her still flat belly. “Are you angry with me?”

His eyes flick up to hers. “Angry? For what?”

“For falling pregnant?”

“Of course not, Emma. I ain’t mad atcha. It’s just as much my doing as it it yours. More so, probably.”

“So you’re happy about it?”

He pauses, unsure of what to say. “I don’t know,” he finally answers truthfully. “Ain’t thought about children in years.” He looks away. “I was engaged once, when I was younger. I thought we’d have kids one day. Looked forward to it, actually. But she broke it off in the end.” He lets out a sigh. “I know she loved me. Parts of me, anyways. But it was those parts of me she  _ didn’t _ love that kept her from marrying me. After that, I knew that  _ no _ woman would love me. Not all of me.” He lets out a heavy breath. “No woman  _ should _ love me, the way I am. The things I’ve done...” he trails off.

“That’s not true,” Emmeline replies quietly. “Everyone can be loved.”

“I ain’t so sure. Some people just ain’t meant to have good things happen to them.”

It breaks her heart to see just how deep seeded Arthur’s hatred for himself is. It’s pretty evident that she’s not going to change his mind about himself overnight, but she’s willing to take the time to try. That is, if he wants her in his life in the future. 

“What do you want to do?” she finally asks.

He just gives her a puzzled look.

“I-I can go back home, call on one of those midwives and go it alone-“

“No.” He cuts her off automatically. “I ain’t gonna make you do this by yourself.” He places his hand on hers, hoping that she’s okay with the contact. “I’m gonna be there for you. No matter what.”

Relief washes over her. The thought of having a child with no support had been weighing heavily on her since she left the doctor’s office. She hadn’t known what Arthur’s true feelings would be, so she thought it quite possible that he would want to cut her off completely. Thankfully, that’s not the case.

“Will you live with me back home?” she asks naively.

“We can’t go back there, Emma. Yet, anyway. Those Pinkertons know who you are, so you ain’t safe. We’re gonna stay here for a few days then head to my camp and tell Dutch about all this. Then... we’ll see what we can do.”

“Oh. Okay.” She feels a sense of apprehension at the thought of meeting the man that she’s only just found out is her father. She’s heard some things about him from Arthur, but she’s still going to be meeting a complete stranger.

“We should keep it between us about... what the doctor said, though,” he suggests. “Just... for now.”

She nods. “Yeah. I suppose that’s what we should do.”

He pauses before he asks, “Are  _ you _ happy?”

“I...” she starts. “I always wanted children, but I never thought seriously about it since I never had any suitors or nothing. But I guess I  _ am _ getting older...”

He lets out a little chuckle. “You ain’t old.”

“My mom was only twenty when she had me, so I’m a year older than she was.” She tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “I’m a little afraid, I guess. But... I don’t regret it,” she replies genuinely. “Do you regret it?” she asks softly, afraid of the answer.

He thinks a moment. “Nah,” he finally says. “I don’t  _ regret _ this happenin’. But I guess I’m afraid, too.” He can feel his eyes start to well up a little as he finally allows the emotions to come up to the surface. “There’s a kid back at camp, just four years old, born into the gang. Good kid. We all love him, take care of him the best we can... but we all know that ain’t no way for a kid to live. Always on the road, away from other kids. I think he’s lonely.” He looks away to shake his head. “I’d never wanna raise a kid like that. But I don’t know how to live any other life than the one I am. How could I leave everyone I’ve ever known? And I ain’t never had an honest job in my life. How am I gonna provide for you and a little one if I don’t steal or grift?”

She gently swipes her fingers under his cheek, ridding it of a tear that had fallen. “We will figure it out. And I have all the faith in the world that you are capable enough to use your talents to make money in an honest way.”

Her genuine words ease some of the fears inside him. He places his hand on her face and gently brings her forward to kiss her cheek. “I did miss you,” he whispers without pulling back.

Her lips curl into a soft smile. “I missed you, too.”

He gently caresses her cheek with his thumb as he leans back to look at her. “You should get some sleep.” He stands from the bed then kneels down in front of her to take off her shoes. 

With her shoes tossed aside, she pulls her legs up under the blanket. “What about you?”

“I’m gonna stay up for a bit.” He tucks her in and kisses her forehead. “Goodnight, Emma.” He blows out the candles lighting the room and moves to sit on the floor beside Emmeline with his back pressed up against the bed frame facing the door. Once her breathing evens out, signaling that she’s asleep, he unholsters his pistol and sets it in his lap, ready in case someone comes to the door. 

They don’t leave the room the next day (except for Arthur to check on the horses, which he does as quickly as possible). Fortunately, Arthur has enough provisions in his satchel for the both of them not to go hungry, though Emmeline finds that the salted meat turns her stomach. The canned fruit she’s luckily able to eat just fine. After the sun goes down, Arthur gets into position on the floor with Emmeline in the bed just like the night before. She finds that her concern for Arthur is causing her to have trouble getting to sleep.

After a few minutes, she speaks up. “You need to sleep, Arthur.”

“I’m fine,” he replies, his gravely voice betraying him and conveying just how tired he is. 

“If we’re gonna leave in the morning, you need your sleep. You need to rest.”

“I’m alright,” he insists, but Emmeline isn’t buying it. 

She hops out of the bed and goes over to the dresser on the front wall. When she starts to push it towards the door, Arthur jumps up and walks over to her. 

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He pulls her back gently so she’ll stop. “What are you doing?”

“I know you’re worried about someone coming in, but you  _ need _ to sleep. Instead of you watching the door all night, we can barricade it so you can actually rest.”

He lets out a sigh, knowing that she’s right. He certainly is tired and the ride to the camp outside of Rhodes isn’t a short one from here. 

Letting out a huff, he concedes. “Alright.” He pushes the dresser the rest of the way to block the door then moves to lay on the floor. 

“Take the bed,” Emmeline suggests. 

“No. You sleep on the bed. I’m fine on the floor.”

“We can share,” she provides easily.

He looks up at her. “You sure? You gonna be comfortable with me in the bed, too? It ain’t very big.”

“That bed’s not comfortable as it is,” she answers with a laugh. “You might make it a little better.”

He chuckles back. “Alright then. If that’s what you want.” He didn’t want to impose on her by thinking that she’d be okay sharing a bed with him. Even though they have shared a bed before, he would never want to assume she’d want to without her specifically telling him she did. As far as he thinks, most women wouldn’t want to be so close to him, which is, of course, not true.

As they finally lay down together, Emmeline cuddles right up to Arthur immediately, laying her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arm around his chest. The ease with which she relaxes next to him has it clicking in his head that she truly does care for him. As he allows that to sink in, he relaxes as well. He wraps his own arm around her back, putting his hand in her waist and savoring the feeling of her close to him. 

“You comfortable?” he asks just to make sure. 

“Yeah,” she answers easily and cuddles into him more, reveling in the comfort he provides her.

Before the sun even fully rises the next day, they’re on the road. Arthur makes sure to use the less travelled trails in case Milton or any other Pinkertons are still around looking for them. When they finally ride up to the camp at Clemens Point, it’s late afternoon.

“Who’s there?” Charles, on guard duty,  calls out from the trees at the edge of camp as soon as he hears the approaching horses.

“It’s Arthur,” he answers. “And Emma.” He slows to a stop as Charles walks out to greet him. “Will you watch over her for a minute?” Arthur asks, gesturing back to Emmeline.

She starts to dismount as soon as Miss Sparrow is stopped, the long rides both from today and before taking a toll on her legs and back.

“Yeah. Everything okay?” Charles asks Arthur as he helps Emmeline down automatically.

Arthur completely ignores the question. “Micah here?”

“He left this morning. Hasn’t been back.”

That’s good news to Arthur.

“Just stay out here with her,” he commands to Charles with a meaningful look.

Charles just gives him a nod in reply.

Arthur continues to follow the trail through the trees until he gets to the clearing of the camp. He hitches Sparrow at the closest hitch and feeds her a carrot before he moves from the spot. As he walks further into camp, he sees Dutch and Hosea talking with each other just outside of Dutch’s tent.

“Arthur!” Dutch calls out jovially once he sees his approach. “I was about ready to send Charles to see after you.”

“We three need to talk,” Arthur says to the two men, only pausing his motion slightly before walking out toward the lake shore. He makes sure to look around camp, noting who is around and more importantly, who isn’t.

“What’s this about?” Hosea asks as he follows the younger man, Dutch falling into step, too, behind him.

Arthur doesn’t say another word until they get far enough away from camp that he’s sure no one else can hear. “I talked with the Pinkertons,” he blurts out as he turns back to the older men.

Dutch gives him a confused look. “What do you mean you  _ talked _ with them?”

“Agents Milton and Ross. They was outside Emmeline’s waiting for her,” he answers.

Dutch whips his head to Hosea, then back to glare at Arthur at the mention of his secret daughter.

Hosea lets out a huff. “I’ve known about her for years, Dutch. You really think I wouldn’t have figured out where you was headed off to all those times when you left money for her and the red haired farm girl?”

“You knew all these years? Why didn’t you say anything?” Dutch asks. 

“I was waiting for you come clean,” Hosea asks.

“That don’t matter now.” Arthur gets them back to the matter at hand. “They  _ knew _ about Emmeline, Dutch. They knew she was your daughter.”

Dutch’s eyes go wide with worry as that sinks in. “Where is she?”

“Outside. With Charles.”

Dutch narrows his eyes on Arthur. “What were you doing at Emmeline’s?”

Hosea jumps in before Arthur can answer. “Start at the beginning, son.”

Arthur lets out a sigh. “I ran into Emma in Valentine and she got upset,” he starts, then skips the part at the doctor’s office. “I escorted her home and when we rode up, two Pinkertons were there waiting for her. They was gonna take her to get you to go after her so they could arrest you.”

Dutch scratches at his chin. “How did they know about her?”

“They didn’t say,” Arthur says. “But I think it’s obvious.”

“What’s that?” Hosea asks.

“Someone  _ here _ had to’ve overheard us talkin’ about her.” Arthur holds his arms out then drops them. “And we all know of someone that’s always eavesdropping on what he ain’t supposed to.”

“Micah,” Hosea provides easily.

“We don’t know we even got a mole here,” Dutch says, unwilling to accept what Arthur is saying. “I know you’ve never liked Micah, but we can’t go accusing him of something this serious.”

Arthur can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Why can’t you see it, Dutch? The way he treats us all. All the shit that’s happened since he’s been here. The ferry job-“

Dutch doesn’t let him finish. “You weren’t there!” he booms. “You don’t know what happened!”

“I know that all our money was safe until  _ you _ asked me to go get it!” Arthur bites back. “Then suddenly two dumbasses are smart enough to find it. Almost like someone  _ knew _ where it was and told them to go get it before  _ I _ could!”

Hosea steps between the two men before it gets any more heated. “Alright now.” He holds his hands up to them. “We’ll keep our eyes on Micah. If he’s innocent, no harm no foul. If he’s a rat, we’ll put him down accordingly.”

Arthur lets out a heavy breath. “I don’t trust him.”

Hosea gives him a pointed look. “We can’t go executing him unless we’re  _ sure _ .”

Arthur picks up on what he’s implying. The only way to convince Dutch is to catch Micah red handed.

“Hosea is right,” Dutch comments, completely missing Hosea’s subtext. “Micah’s one of us until he isn’t.” He gives Arthur a pointed look. “And if he  _ is _ informing on us, why haven’t the Pinkertons come here yet?” he adds, not believing the man could be that disloyal. “Surely they’d know we’re here if they’ve been talking with him.”

Arthur just stares at Dutch for a moment. “Well the Pinkertons are onto us, regardless. As soon as they saw me, they asked me to get you out in the open. They said they’d spare everyone else if I did. I think they’re just tryin’ to make it easy on themselves.”

“What’d you tell them?” Dutch asks.

“That I haven’t seen you in months.”

Dutch steps forward to pat Arthur’s shoulder. “Good, good.” He takes his hand back to smooth his fingers over his mustache. “Emmeline... she knows then?”

Arthur nods. “She knows everything. Who we are. Who  _ you _ are.”

Dutch nods and flicks his eyes to Hosea for a moment before putting them back on Arthur. “Guess it’s time we meet. Bring her out here.”

Arthur walks out through the camp and to the trees to fetch Emmeline. As he walks her back through their living space, everyone’s eyes are on the newcomer following behind Arthur curious as to who she is and why she’s here. No one says anything, though.

Once Arthur leads Emmeline to the water’s edge where Dutch and Hosea are standing, she recognizes the dark haired man.

“I saw you once. In Valentine,” she mentions to Dutch.

He walks over to her with a soft smile on his face and places his hand on her cheek. “I’m not surprised you’re a clever girl.” He lets out a sigh as he looks her over more closely. “You look so much like your mother. I cared deeply for her. She was a good woman.”

“She was,” Emmeline responds sadly at her memory. “Arthur told me about you. That you’re my father. And that my parents lied to me about it.”

Dutch lets out a sigh. “I expect that was quite a shock to you. But know that it was all for your own good.”

“Like forbidding Arthur to see me,” she bites back quickly.

Hosea can’t hold back his laugh.“This girl is sharp. I like her already.”

Dutch lets out a strained chuckle. “Yes. That was for your own good, too. I love Arthur like a son, but I didn’t want you involved in our way of life. I knew if the two of you continued to see each other, it would be impossible to keep you separate from us.”

“I may not be worldly, Mr. Van Der Linde,” she replies, “but I can make my own decisions about who I want to be with. And I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

Dutch flicks his eyes to Arthur, but the younger man averts his gaze. “I am sorry Emmeline. I just wanted to keep you safe.” Dutch takes a step forward and slowly wraps his arms around her in a somewhat awkward hug. “I am so glad you’re here, though.” After he pulls back, he leaves a kiss on the top of her head. “You can never know how much I’ve wished to actually meet you.”

As Dutch moves away from her, Hosea steps forward with his hand outstretched. “I’m Hosea. I hope Arthur has spoken well of me.”

Emmeline gives him a warm smile as she shakes his hand. “He’s told me that the two of you took him off the streets and raised him as your own.”

“That is true,” Hosea confirms. 

Dutch jumps back in. “For now, I want to keep your parentage quiet, alright?” he says to her. 

She nods. “Okay.” Now she has  _ two _ secrets to keep from everyone. She hopes she can pull it off.

“It’ll cut down on all the questions,” Dutch adds. “And it might lead us to how exactly the Pinkertons knew about you. That is, if we find someone that knows when they  _ shouldn’t _ know.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything, though he’s still sure Micah is the rat.

Dutch walks over to Arthur and lays his hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to keep her safe, you hear?” he commands in a way that leaves no questions to be asked. “She stays with you at all times.”

“I was gonna suggest the same thing,” Arthur comments, already on board with that. There is no way he’ll et anything happen to Emmeline. Especially now. 

“We introduce her as Arthur’s woman,” Dutch says to everyone. “We’ll try to stick with the truth as much as we can. We say her mother knew Hosea and I years ago and wrote me to help her out after she died. We sent Arthur to see her and the two got sweet on each other. He decided to bring her here. We don’t mention she’s my kin. We don’t mention the Pinkertons know that.” He looks to Arthur again. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees. 

“Yes,” Hosea says, too and Emmeline nods. 

“Good.” Dutch stands up straight and squares his shoulders as he straightens his jacket. “Lets go tell the gang we have a new member.” He puts on his most charming smile and starts to head back into camp. “Everyone! Gather around. We have some news!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone reading this! I hope you’re enjoying this departure from the events of the game.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could contain a pretty big spoiler, though I’ve been hinting towards it the whole time (and the game does, too, from pretty early on). Things don’t play out the same way they do in the game, so use your judgement if you haven’t completed the game yet. Just thought I’d warn you on that.

Arthur looks over to Emmeline as she sleeps on the cot in his tent. The day had been hectic, for sure. First it was the long ride from Van Horne, then it was dealing with all the attention from the gang once Dutch introduced Emmeline. He, of course, left out the fact that she’s his illegitimate daughter, but rather focused on her being with Arthur as her reasons for being brought to the camp. Which seemed to interest everyone greatly.

“It’s so romantic,” Mary Beth stated dreamily after she greeted the new arrival.

Arthur felt his cheeks get hot. “It really ain’t.”

Emmeline let out a little laugh. “I suppose it is.” She looked to Arthur and noticed his embarrassment. “Unless it isn’t...?”

He realized how his statement must’ve sounded to her. “I didn’t mean- I just-“ He scratched the back of his neck. “I ain’t all that romantic, is all.”

Mary Beth rolled her eyes at him. “Yes you are, Arthur Morgan. You can’t tell me different. And I bet Emmeline would say the same.”

He looked down to Emmeline standing beside him. “I think she’d probably call me a fool,” he said with a smile, though he wasn’t really joking.

“Not exactly a fool,” she replied as she looked up at him. “You’ve done some foolish things, but... you’re a good man.”

They stared at each other for a few moments before they’re interrupted by Mary Beth, squealing in delight.

“You need to tell me your whole story,” she requested, though it was more of a demand. “Maybe I could write a story out of it!”

After that, Arthur somehow was able to steer clear of Mary Beth long enough to get two bowls of stew for himself and Emmeline for dinner. They quietly ate in the privacy of Arthur’s tent, both relieved to have some peace.

Not much longer after that, Emmeline changed into her nightgown and got into the cot, falling asleep almost immediately. Arthur, however, sat down across from her on the ground, which is where he currently is. He lets out a heavy breath and takes his journal from his satchel to recount the last few days.

 

_ Emmeline is here with me at camp. After weeks apart, she’s just a few feet away from where I am now, sleeping peacefully in my bed.  _

_ And I’m conflicted. _

_ I know that I made the right choice in walking away from her. I would’ve done anything to make sure that she stayed as far away as possible from me and this life I lead. That’s the safest thing for her. But I’d be lying if I said I weren’t happy to have her here. The second I saw her again back in Valentine, I realized just how much I missed her. Just how deep my feelings run for her. Even so, I think I still would’ve left her again if it weren’t for what I found out just a few minutes later. _

_ I got Emmeline pregnant, apparently. That one time we slept together... guess it were enough. Now all I can think is that I don’t ever want to leave her alone again. I want her with me always so I can take care of her. Protect her. Especially since the Pinkertons know about her and that she’s Dutch’s daughter. And they want to use her to get to Dutch. _

_ I know it were Micah that told them. Had to be. Only three people on this earth knew about Emmeline. Dutch, me, and Hosea. None of us ran to the law, I know that for sure. So someone must’ve overheard me and Dutch talking about her. Thinking back, I think Dutch said he was her father when we was in his tent, after he read that letter she wrote me. And if I remember correctly, Micah was close by when I left. That had to be when he found out about her. And he went running right to them Pinkertons with the news. _

_ Dutch can’t see it, though. I don’t have no idea why. But I think Hosea is getting suspicious of Micah. There’s just too many coincidences for it to be anything else. If me and Hosea work together, we might get Dutch to change his mind about that rat. I just hope it’s before something bad happens. _

 

“You awake, Arthur?” Dutch’s quiet voice sounds out from the other side of the closed tent flaps, drawing Arthur from his thoughts. Dutch had heard the pencil scraping across the pages of Arthur’s journal, so he was already sure the man wasn’t sleeping. Which he is glad about, since he wants to talk with Arthur.

Arthur closes his journal and with a quick glance back to the still sleeping Emmeline, he exits the tent. “What is it, Dutch?” he asks, just as quiet so he doesn’t wake anyone. It’s late and most of the camp is asleep.

Dutch cocks his head to the edge of camp, prompting Arthur to follow. Once they’re far enough away, Dutch starts to talk.

“I’ve been thinking about all this. With you and Emmeline,” Dutch starts and Arthur pales, thinking that somehow Dutch knows about Emmeline’s pregnancy. “Let me ask you, did you see her after I told you not to?” The look on Dutch’s face tells Arthur that the man isn’t exactly happy.

“I didn’t,” Arthur answers truthfully, a bit relieved that this is where the conversation went. “I told you I was gonna stay away and I did.”

Dutch nods, though he still doesn’t seem too happy. “And you just happened to be at her house when the law showed?”

“I told you. I ran into her in Valentine. She got real upset when she saw me, so I escorted her home. I promise you, Dutch, that were the first time I saw her in weeks.”

That’s all the truth, though Arthur again left out the visit with the doctor and what he told them.

“You didn’t  _ lead _ them there?”

Arthur shakes his head emphatically. “They was there when we rode up. Ask Emmeline. She’ll tell you the same.”

Dutch continues to look at Arthur pointedly. “Tell me now, son, what are your feelings toward her?”

Arthur looks away from the man’s intense gaze. “I-“ He swallows hard. “I think I might love her, Dutch.”

“So you ain’t just pretending to cover her being here?”

Arthur shakes his head. “I wanna be with her. If she’ll have me.”

“Is that gonna cause problems?”

Arthur furrows his brow. “Problems?”

“I need you here. The gang needs you here. I can’t have you running off like you did with Mary.”

“This ain’t like with Mary,” Arthur is quick to say. “I ain’t gonna abandon no one here. These people are my family and I want what’s best for them. That can include Emmeline, too. She’s  _ here _ , ain’t she. I didn’t run off with her like I coulda. I brought her  _ here _ .”

Dutch shakes his head as he casts his gaze down. “I never wanted her here.”

“I didn’t neither. But now, this is the safest place for her. I don’t trust them Pinkertons. They’d destroy her just to get to you.”

“I know they would.” Dutch lets out a heavy breath. “All I ask is that you remember where your loyalties lie, son.” With that, Dutch walks away, back to his tent, leaving Arthur somewhat confused.

Once Arthur enters his own tent, Emmeline stirs and looks up to him. “Arthur?”

“Sorry, Emma. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s alright. Are you coming to bed?”

He pauses a moment. “You-You mean...?” He gestures to his cot.

Emmeline lets out a little laugh. “Yeah. Of course. We’ve shared a bed before, Arthur.”

“I know.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I just didn’t wanna assume you wanted me to. I’m fine on the ground.”

She giggles. “You can lay up here, Arthur. We’re together now, right?”

“Is that what you really want?” he asks, his insecurities preventing him from just telling her how he feels.

She sits up before answering. “Yes. I want to be with you Arthur.” She hesitates before asking, “Do you want to be with me?”

He nods as he sits on the edge of the cot facing her. “I  _ do _ want to be with you. I just want to make sure that’s what  _ you _ want. You didn’t know about none of this,” he gestures vaguely to the camp with one hand, “a few days ago. I’d understand if you don’t want me as your man because of it.”

“Why won’t you believe me when I say that I do?”

“Because...” he looks away, “Because I ain’t so sure I deserve it.”

“Do you trust me?”

He looks back to her, confused. “Of course.”

“Do you think I’d lie to you?”

“Don’t reckon you would.”

“So believe me when I say that you deserve this, Arthur. You deserve happiness. Love. I know I’m not the best woman, but I will try my hardest to show you how much I care for you.”

He can’t help but smile at her words, though his cheeks turn a bit red. “Alright then, Miss Emmeline.” He’s not entirely certain that his past misdeeds could ever be forgiven, but he does believe her feelings for him. 

After stripping down to his union suit, Arthur climbs into the cot with Emmeline. It’s a tight fit, but both of them end up sleeping soundly in the comfort of each other’s arms.

Emmeline wakes the next morning, alone in the tent. She doesn’t really think much about it, considering that her stomach is forefront in her mind. As she sits up and swings her legs over the side of the cot, all she can think about is that she’s somehow both starving and nauseous, though her hunger is just a bit worse.

As if on cue, Arthur walks into the tent carrying a plate of eggs and bacon. “Mornin’,” he says gently once he sees that Emmeline is just barely awake.

“Good morning,” she responds as she stretches a little. “Is that for me?”

“Yeah.” He gives the plate to her then sits beside her. “Didjya sleep well.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she starts shoveling the food in her mouth quickly.

Arthur starts to chuckle. “Don’t choke now.”

She swallows then wipes her mouth with her hand. “Sorry. I was really hungry.”

“I guess.”

“I just wanted to get some food in me. My stomach ain’t really good.”

“Oh?” Arthur’s eyes travel down instinctively. “You feel like you’re gonna throw up?”

“Not right now. Just a little nauseous. I think the food helped a little.”

“Sorry you feel sick.”

She shrugs as she takes another bite. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to it.”

As Emmeline finishes her breakfast, Arthur fidgets beside her, anxious at the subject of her pregnancy. It’s only been a few days since the two of them received that news, so they haven’t really discussed it very much.

She sets the now empty plate down and looks up to Arthur beside her, noticing his state. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck in nervousness. “Can I- Can I... touch...?” He holds his hand out and gestures to her stomach.

“Yeah.” She pulls her arms away and sits up straighter. “There’s nothing there, though.”

He chuckles as he lightly places his hand on her. “Guess you’re right,” he mutters, though he doesn’t move his hand away.

When she places her hand atop his, he shifts his gaze up to meet hers. Softly smiling at each other, they share a moment as both of their anxieties seem to melt away. Things may not be perfect for them, but at least they can count on each other.

The serenity of the moment is shattered by a most unwelcome voice.

“Dutch!” Micah calls out from somewhere inside the camp.

Arthur lets out a growl upon hearing the man’s voice. “Stay here,” he commands to Emmeline as he stands from the cot. Before he exits, he turns back to her. “Get dressed.”

His harsh tone scares her. Whatever is happening outside, Emmeline is sure that Arthur is worried about it.

Before Arthur can intercept Micah, the man is standing before Dutch.

“Oh, Dutch,” Micah calls out in a jovial way. “Do I have some good news for you.”

“What is it, Micah?” Dutch responds neutrally, though he sends Arthur a look as he approaches.

Against his better judgement, Arthur keeps quiet and allows Dutch and Micah to have their conversation. His attention is momentarily shifted to Hosea as he starts to walk up to them, though it goes back to the conversation happening before him after Micah starts to speak.

“Ran into some of them O’Driscolls,” he explains. “Right before I could decide to pump them full o’ lead, they start tellin’ me that they want me to deliver a message to you from none other than Colm O’Driscoll himself.”

“Colm?” That gets Dutch’s full attention.

“He wants to parley,” Micah says with his usual smirk. “Wants to bury the hatchet.”

Dutch runs his hand over his mustache, considering Micah’s words. Before he can say anything, Arthur jumps in.

“Are you kidding?” he calls out, unable to hold his tongue. “He wants to talk  _ now _ ? When we’re already dealing with a heap of shit! We don’t have time for this.”

Micah holds his hands up. “I’m just the messenger, cowpoke. But don’t ya think it’s time we settle things.”

“ _ We _ ?” Arthur growls. “You weren’t even around when our beef with Colm started!”

Dutch lays his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, stopping him. “It seems unlikely Colm wants peace between us,” he finally says. “I killed his brother. And in turn, he killed someone very special to me.”

Hosea jumps in. “This parley is surely a trap,” he says matter of factly.

“Maybe,” Micah concedes. “But ain’t it worth the shot if it ain’t. We wouldn’t hafta worry about them O’Driscolls causing us problems no more. Besides,” he claps Arthur on the back, “we’ll have you scoping the whole meet out from above us with a rifle. If shit goes south, you take ‘em all out.”

“And where exactly is this meet?” Arthur snarls.

“Out in the Heartlands.”

“So the middle of nowhere.  _ Out in the open _ ,” Arthur adds, repeating the words that Milton had said to him. It seems like too much of a coincidence that Milton asked Arthur to get Dutch out in the open. Now Colm is asking for a meet out of the blue?

Dutch catches Arthur’s meaning, but he’s still mulling it over. “You think you could take the shot, son?” he asks of Arthur. “Before those boys get the chance to kill me and Micah?”

“I ain’t goin’ along with this, Dutch,” Arthur says, almost quietly.

Micah throws up his hands. “Of course! Arthur wants to play house with his little whore instead of working with us. That’s all he cares about Dutch! He ain’t  _ loyal _ to us no more! Only thinkin’ with his little prick!”

Hosea has to step forward before both Dutch and Arthur throttle Micah. “Now, Emmeline ain’t got nothing to do with this. Arthur has his reservations and they’re warranted.”

“Ain’t about loyalty, Micah,” Arthur presses. “It ain’t disloyal to try and stop Dutch from doing somethin’ foolish!” He turns to the older man. “You know I want justice for Annabelle just as much as you do. She was like a mother to me; I loved her almost as much as my own. But this? Meeting with Colm  _ now _ when we got the Pinkertons breathing down our necks? It ain’t gonna work out, Dutch. I know it.”

Dutch lets out a heavy breath. “If I go out there, I’ll  _ need _ you backing me up.”

Arthur shakes his head as he casts his gaze down. “I ain’t gonna participate in this, Dutch. I ain’t. And you shouldn’t neither.”

Dutch takes a moment before making his final decision. If Arthur won’t change his mind, then Dutch knows the plan would fail anyway.  “If Colm really wants peace, he’ll wait until we’re outta this mess with the law.”

Hosea concurs. “The time will come for us to talk with Colm, but it ain’t the time yet.”

“Come on!” Micah calls out, exasperated. “You’re listening to  _ him _ ?!” He gestures to Arthur. “After he  _ abandoned _ you!”

Dutch can’t hold back, his voice cracking as he screams, “ _ Now _ . is  _ not _ . the  _ time _ !”

Micah stares back at the leader, breathing ragged. “Fine, Dutch. But you’re making a mistake.” He doesn’t wait for a reply, turning away from them and stomping over to mount his horse. 

Arthur watches the man ride off. Once the hoof beats fade away, he turns back to Dutch. “We need to move camp. Now, before Micah knows what we’re doing.”

“What?” Dutch asks, his face contorted displeasure.

“He’s a snake, Dutch!” Arthur calls out, unaware that the raised voices have drawn attention from everyone in camp. “He failed with that bullshit he was spoutin’. So I’d bet money he’s riding off to tell Milton to come and pick us up!”

“You think I’m that bad a judge of character?!” Dutch spits back. “That I’d let a  _ rat _ into my home?!”

“I think you’re  _ human _ , Dutch,” Arthur replies more calmly once he sees how agitated Dutch is. But he can’t stand by and do nothing as Dutch comes to the realization any longer. “You can make mistakes, but you gotta see that now. Before it gets us all killed.”

“We’ve been here too long as it is,” Hosea steps in diplomatically. “Even after we backed off from those families, they remain skeptical of us. If one of those agents comes sniffing around, I have no doubt that anyone in Rhodes would point them our way.”

Dutch takes a deep breath to calm down. “Where are we gonna go then?” he snips. 

“Um.” Lenny walks forward cautiously. He, like everyone else, heard the conversation going on in the middle of the camp. “I know a place.” He looks over to Arthur. “That old plantation we cleared out down in the swamp. Shady Belle. We could hole up there.”

“Ain’t too far from here,” Arthur adds.

Dutch reluctantly nods. “Lenny, take John with you and make sure that place is still clear. Charles.” He waves the man over and waits for him to arrive.

“Yeah, Dutch?” Charles says once he’s close enough.

“Track Micah,” Dutch says reluctantly. Either Micah’s a rat or he isn’t, but he needs proof either way. “Don’t let him see you. Then come find us at Shady Belle and tell us what he’s up to.”

Charles nods and without question, turns to leave.

“Everyone,” Dutch calls out loudly, “pack up! We’re leaving in twenty minutes. Then Arthur will lead us to our new home.”

As the gang starts to tear down the camp, Arthur heads back to his tent. Once inside, he sees Emmeline carefully packing away his things in his trunk.

“I heard Dutch,” she says before he can ask what she’s doing. “Is someone coming for us?”

He decides to just tell her the truth. “It’s a precaution. I think one of our gang, a man named Micah Bell, is informing on us to the Pinkertons. I think he’s the one that told them about you. And, right now, I think he’s on his way to them. So we’re leavin’.”

Emmeline nods and they both get to work packing up the tent. Before they’re finished, Emmeline voices the question on her mind.

“What would happen if they found us? The Pinkertons?”

He stops what he’s doing and looks over to her. “Reckon all the men would hang. The women, ain’t so sure about.”

“You’d hang?”

He looks at her a moment before answering. “Honestly, I ain’t too sure what would happen to me. I don’t got the same bounty on my head as the others, but I don’t think them agents would just let me go. They’d sooner have me rot in prison on trumped up charges just for pissing them off.”

Dutch’s voice yelling for everyone to hurry up draws them out of the conversation and they finish up with their things. Once all the trunks are packed away in the supply wagons, Arthur leads Emmeline to one with seats in the back. Abigail, Jack, Tilly, Mary Beth, and Karen are already seated, with Miss Grimshaw and Hosea on the leads.

“Can’t I take Miss Susie?” Emmeline asks once she realizes Arthur wants her to sit in the wagon.

“Kieran’s gon’ take good care of her, I promise. I want ya here, okay?”

She nods at him. Despite her wanting to stay with her horse, it might be more relaxing for her to ride in the wagon. Especially with her stomach being sour.

“I’m gon’ be in the front leading the way, but Sadie’ll be riding behind. If you need anything, you yell to her. And if you start hearin’ gunshots, you duck down and don’t look up, alright?”

“Okay. I guess I’ll see you when we get there.” She takes his hand in hers as she looks up to him, placing her other hand on his cheek.

Arthur isn’t used to such a tender gesture, especially not in front of other people. But he finds himself reveling in it. Her soft fingers on his skin sends a warmth through his chest that he hasn’t felt in years. Maybe ever, really.

Mary never touched him like this. Certainly not in public. “It’s not proper,” she’d say. Even behind closed doors, it was always him lavishing her with attention. He hadn’t realized how such a simple gesture could mean so much to him.

Before he can give it much thought, he bends down to place a sweet kiss on her lips. It’s cut short, though, by giggles coming from the wagon. Arthur instantly feels his ears go hot at what the women had just seen, knowing that they’re probably going to tease him for it. Without looking at them, he pulls away from Emmeline and helps her up into her seat.

“Listen to Sadie,” he says to all the women, though he’s not making eye contact with any of them. “If she tells you to get down-“

“We know, Arthur,” Karen cuts him off. “We weren’t born yesterday. Stop fussin’ cuz your lady’s here. We’ll take care of her.”

He lets out a huff. “Alright then.” With one last look to Emmeline, he hops down and mounts Sparrow.

The ride to their new campsite isn’t a particularly long one, especially given how long the rides Emmeline has done the past few days. However, it’s not entirely comfortable for her, given her morning sickness.

“You alright, Emmeline?” Abigail leans forward to ask the woman sat across from her.

Emmeline nods. “I’m fine.”

“You look a little green around the gills,” Karen comments from her seat beside Emmeline.

“It’s just-“ Emmeline starts, trying to think of how to explain it without divulging her secret. 

Mary Beth jumps in, inadvertently helping Emmeline. “All this change for you... I get queasy when I’m worried, too. Just keep breathin’, sweetheart. It’ll all work out.”

Tilly reaches over and pats Emmeline on the knee. “We always make it outta our messes. You got nothin’ to worry about.”

The women all accept that explanation. Well, all of them except Abigail, though her mind isn’t completely made up on Emmeline’s affliction just yet.

Within a few hours, they arrive at the rundown plantation and set up the wagons and tents. Miss Grimshaw readies a room for Arthur and Emmeline in the house, across from the Marstons and down the hall from Dutch and Molly’s room.

“I like this better than the tent,” Emmeline comments as she looks around the room. “It’s almost sad this place fell into disrepair. I bet it was beautiful.”

“The building mighta been beautiful, but this place sure weren’t. Them buildings out back are slave quarters,” Arthur explains.

“Oh.” Emmeline lets out a breath as she shrugs a shoulder. “Guess this  _ is _ the south. Wasn’t much thinking about that.”

“Lenny’s told some stories ‘bout his parents being slaves.” Arthur shakes his head. “Don’t know how nobody can treat others like that.”

A knock at the door pulls them from their conversation. Before they can answer, Miss Grimshaw calls out, “Pearson’s got the stew ready,” before she walks back down the stairs.

“Hungry?” Arthur asks with a smile.

“I’m starving.”

They head outside to eat their dinner with everyone else as the sun sets. Despite the hectic day, everyone seems to be in good spirits. Emmeline learns a lot about the gang’s history as tales of their exploits are told. To be honest, she hadn’t expected the stories to be as lighthearted as they are, considering they’re about criminal acts. But it seems like the gang, especially early on, was more akin to Robin Hood and his merry men rather than outlaws. Their adventures involved stealing from the corrupt elite and donating the spoils to orphanages, charities, and the like. 

With how Hosea and Arthur describe Dutch as a younger man, she can see how her mother would have been drawn to him. He’s not exactly like the man that raised her (the man she knew her mother loved very much), but he isn’t a complete opposite either. 

“Why don’t ya tell us about yourself, girlie?” Sean asks Emmeline in his thick Irish accent as almost everyone sits around the fire unwinding. 

“I’ve led such a boring life compared to all of you,” she answers. “I don’t really have any stories that don’t end in me doing chores or reading a book.”

Dutch looks up at her and smiles. “You’re a reader? I’ll have to include you on the discussions Lenny and myself have.”

“Pfft. Books,” Sean calls out. “What’s the use of ‘em? Nobody never filled their bellies or their pockets with books.”

“People make money off of books, Sean,” Lenny points out.

“Well...” Sean starts, trying to save himself from looking foolish. “I still don’t see the fuckin’ point.”

“If you’d let me teach you-“ Lenny starts to comment, but Sean cuts him off. 

“I’ve lived this many years just fine! I ain’t gonna learn how to read at this point in my life!”

“You can’t read?” Emmeline asks, confused as to why anyone wouldn’t learn such a thing. 

Sean starts to get a little flustered, actually embarrassed. “I ain’t the only one ‘round ‘ere. Abigail can’t. Karen, neither. And I think John’s fakin’ it.”

“I know how to read, dumbass!” John bites back. 

Everyone laughs as the two men start to bicker back and forth about various things they’re better at than the other one. It’s not until everyone hears hoof beats approaching that things go quiet as they ready themselves for who it could be. The tension leaves everyone’s bodies when they see it’s just Charles approaching, though. 

After he dismounts, he walks over to where everyone is gathered. “Dutch,” He starts, his face stoic. “Arthur was right about Micah.”

Dutch stiffens and stands. “What did he do?” he asks calmly, though the tension is evident in his stance. 

“I followed him all the way to Flatneck Station,” Charles begins. “I stayed outside as he went in. He was in there a while. Never got on a train. Then I saw those two Pinkerton agents ride up and go inside. They all stayed in there for maybe half an hour, then the agents left. Five minutes later, Micah left.”

Dutch’s breathing picks up as he takes it all in. But Charles isn’t finished. 

“I went back to Clemens Point to scope it out after that. The law descended on the place, Dutch. Didn’t seem too happy we weren’t there.”

Arthur knows now isn’t the time for “I told you so”s, so he keeps his mouth shut. But he is certainly relieved that Dutch has no choice but to see Micah for the rat that he is. 

Everyone just stares at Dutch, waiting for him to say something further. 

“He betrayed us,” he finally utters. “He  _ betrayed _ us. And that means...” he takes a breath, “he gets a death sentence. If anyone sees him from here on out, shoot him on sight! Understood?!”

Everyone nods, though no one says a word as Dutch turns away to go up to his room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Dutch wised up. But it still might not be smooth sailing from here on out.  
> Tell me what you guys think. I love reading your comments. ;)  
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emmeline starts to get used to living in the camp.

Several days pass as the gang comes to terms with Micah’s betrayal to them. With what Charles had told them about what he had seen, it’s evident that after Micah’s plan to get Dutch out in the open to meet with Colm had failed, he went out to that train station to telegraph Milton. Once the agents arrived, Micah must’ve told them Dutch didn’t take the bait. Milton’s impatience apparently had gotten the better of him because he then decided to just raid the camp instead of going about contriving another plan to get Dutch away from everyone to arrest him.

During these days, Emmeline settles in more. She tries her best to do jobs around the camp at Shady Belle. Laundry, mending clothes, washing up, none of it is really new to her, anyway. Once the sun goes down, she starts to help Lenny in his pursuit to teach Sean how to read. The Irishman seems more inclined to listen to Emmeline than Lenny, so he actually makes progress.

“The... dog... j-j-“ he reads along as he points to the words on the page with his finger.

“Sound it out,” Emmeline says in support.

“J-um-p-ed. Jumped!” he calls out excitedly. “That fucker  _ jumped _ !”

Emmeline and Lenny both laugh at his reaction.

“You’re doing good,” she comments. “See, you’re getting it down. You’ll be reading novels in no time.”

Karen, who is close by, decides to see what all the hubbub is about. “Who jumped?” she asks as she comes to stand by Sean.

He points to the illustration of the little puppy in the book that Lenny had borrowed from Jack. “The dog!” He follows the words with his finger again as he reads. “The dog jumped!”

“You can join us, Karen,” Lenny mentions. “If Sean can learn, you surely can, too.”

She thinks it over a minute. “If I learn to read, Mary Beth will be shoving those stories she writes in my face all the time askin’ if they’re any good.” She moves to sit down next to Sean. “But I guess I ain’t got nothin’ better to do right now.”

Soon enough, Abigail and Jack join in on the lessons, though Hosea has to be recruited to help out with the teaching. It helps to keep spirits high in this time of uncertainty. Arthur often sits next to Emmeline as she continues to help, though most of the time he’s sketching in his journal instead of helping out.

“Who taught you to read, Emmeline?” Abigail asks one of the days they’re all sitting around the fire.

“Both my parents loved books,” she answers. “They didn’t send me off to school, but they both taught me all they knew. Taught me to read and write. How to add numbers. Even had me read some history books, too. They wasn’t really educated, but they did their best.”

“Well you’re loads smarter than Arthur, here,” Sean calls out at Arthur’s expense. “How’d you manage to convince a sweet girl like that to be with you.”

Before Arthur can respond, Emmeline steps in to defend him. “He didn’t have to convince me. Arthur is sweet and kind. And he ain’t dumb. He’s taught me a lot.” She looks over to Arthur and smiles.

“Ain’t that sweet!” Sean razzes him further.

Karen slaps the back of the Irishman’s head. “He’s a better man than you, Sean.”

“Aw, you love me. Give us a kiss.” He leans into Karen, his lips puckered.

“I don’t love you, you pig!” Karen calls out, but everyone knows she’s not serious.

About a week after they had moved into Shady Belle, Arthur finds Dutch standing at the back of the property looking over the swamp.

“Whatcha doin’, Dutch?” he calls out as he approaches.

The older man doesn’t even turn around, though he does answer. “Watching the alligators,” he says with very little emotion in his voice.

Once Arthur comes to stand next to Dutch, he can see blood in the water and an alligator moving around underneath it. “They fighting or something?”

“I watched a boar walk over to the edge of the water,” Dutch starts, eyes still fixed on the swamp. “I watched as one of those gators silently swam up to it, the boar none the wiser. Only took but a few seconds and that gator had that boar in its mouth, dragging it in the water as its meal.”

“Shit,” is all Arthur can think to say.

Dutch lets out a sigh. “All this time, I thought I was the alligator. Turns out I’m the boar.”

Arthur could tell that Dutch hadn’t been taking Micah’s betrayal very well. He had shut himself in his room, barely talking to anybody, which isn’t normal for him. This is actually the first time Arthur had spoken to him in days.

“Now come on, Dutch,” Arthur replies gently. “You ain’t no boar. You’re a man. And men make mistakes on occasion. I know that more ‘n anyone.”

“I’ve been thinking about...  _ him _ ,” Dutch says, refusing to use Micah’s name. “About everything he’s done. Everything he’s said.” He lets out a heavy breath and casts his gaze to the ground in front of him. “He played me, Arthur. Like a fiddle. Told me everything I wanted to hear. Then he tried to get me to turn on you.” He finally looks over to the younger man. “And John. And Hosea. I nearly fell for it.”

“But ya didn’t.”

“But I nearly did. And everything I’ve been working for would’ve been  _ lost _ .” He lets out a sigh. “I’ve just been trying  _ so hard _ ,” he brings his hands up and clenches them into fists in front of him, “to hold onto everything. To keep everyone together. Not to fall into the trap of this...” he waves his hands around, “ _ civilization _ .”

“I know, Dutch. We’re still here. We’re still with you.”

Dutch turns his body to face Arthur and places his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “But for how long?” He doesn’t stay to get a response, instead, walking past him toward the house.

Just a little while later as almost everyone is eating their supper, Sean calls out, “Hey, English!” in Arthur’s direction. Bill is walking next to him, which can mean nothing good, most likely.

Arthur lets out a sigh, causing Emmeline to chuckle beside him. “Yes, Sean?” he replies, already exasperated.

“Me and Bill was ‘avin a drink at some saloon in San Denis when we hear these two blokes talkin’ about some train that’s s’pose ta be carryin’ a lot of gold. Apparently they gonna be movin’ money outta the bank fer some reason.”

“And...?” Arthur says after a pause.

Bill jumps in. “We rob it!”

Arthur just shakes his head. “I don’t think we should be doin’ nothin’ like that right now. All the heat that’s been on us... we need to lie low.”

“Don’t we need the money, though? To get to Tahiti?” Sean asks, parroting Dutch’s words.

“Right now we gotta focus on not getting nabbed by them Pinkertons,” Arthur explains. “Micah don’t know where we went to, but I’m bettin’ he’s told them agents that we’d head further east once they ran us outta Clemens Point. If we do something big, they’ll know it’s us and it’ll only be a matter of time before they find this place.” Arthur scratches at his beard as he thinks it over. “We need to do shit much more quiet than we have been. No train robberies. No banks or stagecoaches. Nothin’ like that. We send the women into the city to pickpocket some rich folk. Javier and whoever else can rob homesteads as long as it’s quiet. Me and Charles can hunt and sell the pelts. It won’t get us a heap load of money, but it’ll make us enough to keep surviving. For now, anyways.”

Since Dutch is continuing to lock himself away most of the time, there’s no one else giving the gang orders but Arthur and Hosea. They are both in agreement that the gang needs to lower their profile for the time being. Especially until Dutch gets back to his old self. Arthur hopes he’ll come out of it, sooner rather than later.

During this time, Emmeline and Arthur try to figure out what it means to be in a relationship together. She, of course, has no experiences of her own to draw off of. Arthur isn’t much better, though, only having one serious relationship in his life. There are some awkward moments, usually coming in the form of Arthur being teased every time someone catches him even so much as looking at Emmeline. She shrugs it off, but Arthur usually has to try to hide his blushing cheeks.

While he’s never been very comfortable with public displays of affection, he makes up for it in the privacy of their own room. He’s tentative for the first few nights, but with Emmeline’s assurance that she is fine with his advances, he gets more comfortable with her physically. Before too long, he comes to crave the intimacy that she provides. He had long since accepted that he would never have another woman in his life, but then Emmeline showed up and awakened parts of him that had been dormant.

One morning, Arthur and Emmeline are cuddled up together in the small bed in their second floor room. Arthur has been working hard lately, so he decides to sleep in a little today. As for Emmeline, her pregnancy has continued to take the energy out of her, so some extra time in bed doesn’t bother her any.

“You awake, Emma?” he whispers when she stirs a little from her position lying on his chest.

“Yeah,” she answers sleepily without lifting her head. “But I’m still tired. I might just fall back asleep.”

He kisses her crown. “Go on ahead. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Just a few minutes after she tries to fall back asleep, she’s overcome with a wave of nausea. Thankful that she decided to put her nightgown back on last night after she and Arthur were done with their “activities,” she runs out of their room to try to make it outside before the contents of her stomach could come up. Unfortunately, she just barely makes it out into the hallway before she starts to heave.

Abigail can hear the commotion from her room just a few feet away. She leaves Jack, still sleeping soundly, to see what’s going on. “Are you alright?” she asks Emmeline when she sees the mess at her feet.

Emmeline clears her throat and wipes her mouth. “I’m fine,” she says as she looks up to the other woman, unsure what else to say.

Arthur comes out of the room, having hastily put on his pants to cover himself. He shares a look with Abigail before he gently lays a hand on Emmeline’s back. “Why don’t you go back in and lay down,” he says to her. “I’ll clean this up.”

Abigail’s face suddenly lights up as she calls out, “You’re pregnant! I knew it!” She had her suspicions, but the fact that Emmeline had gotten sick and Arthur isn’t at all worried about it confirms what she had thought.

Both Arthur and Emmeline snap their heads to look at the other woman.

“Keep it down,” Arthur growls out.

Abigail lets out a scoff. “Ain’t nobody up here but Jack. And he could sleep through the end of the world. Even Dutch and Molly are out, for once.” She starts to vibrate with excitement despite Arthur glaring at her. “But it’s true, right?”

Emmeline smiles gently as she nods slightly. There’s no use in lying at this point.

Abigail can’t hold back the squeal of happiness as it leaves her mouth. The thought of having another child in the camp for Jack to play with swirls in her mind.

“Shh!” Arthur pats the air to try to calm her. “You can’t tell nobody, Abigail. Especially not the rest of the girls.”

“I wont.”

“Abigail?” John’s raspy voice rings out from the steps. “You alright up there? I heard you yell.” He starts to come up the stairs before she even answers.

Abigail runs over to meet her husband on the landing. “Emmeline’s with child!” she tells him immediately.

Arthur throws up his hands and rolls his eyes. “Abigail! I just told you not to tell no one!”

“John doesn’t count,” she replies as she leads John over to where the group stands.

“Is that sick?” he points to the pile a few feet away.

Abigail swats him on the chest. “Don’t worry about that! You’re gonna be an uncle!”

“Don’t tell  _ nobody _ else,” Arthur asserts. “I mean it. Both of you.”

“Alright, alright.” Abigail turns to leave. “I’ll get a bucket to clean up that mess. Then we’re gonna talk  _ all _ about this.”

John shakes his head and claps Arthur on the shoulder. “Looks like we’re more alike than I thought.”

Emmeline scrunches up her face in confusion at his comment. “What?”

“I knocked Abigail up with Jack on accident, too.”

Arthur shakes his head. “Shut up, Marston.”

She looks over to Arthur for a moment before turning back to John. “But you were happy, right?” 

“Little Johnny Marston ran away. Like an idiot,” Arthur answers for him. “I won’t never do that.”

“I came back,” John defends himself.

“It only took four years for you to get your shit together to be somewhat of a father to the boy,” Arthur bites back sarcastically. He had always looked down at John for his decision to leave instead of accepting his role as a father. Now that he’s put himself in the same position with regards to an unexpected pregnancy, he’s focused on not repeating the younger man’s mistake.

Abigail reappears carrying a bucket and some rags. “Stop fighting, you two. You should be celebrating.”

“We ain’t ready to tell everyone just yet,” Emmeline comments. “So I think we’ll have to wait for any parties.”

“It’s your news to tell. But the second you do it, there’s certainly going to be a party.” Abigail bends down to start to clean the floor. “I suggest you nibble on some biscuits to settle your stomach, though. If you start getting sick all the time, people are gonna get curious and ask questions.”

Early one morning, Emmeline takes Abigail up on her advice. Once her stomach starts to roil, she sneaks out of bed quietly enough not to wake Arthur to head down to Pearson’s wagon in search for biscuits. The sun isn’t even up yet, so it takes her a few minutes in the dark to locate the small tin on the table.

After eating a few of the biscuits, she decides to head over to where Miss Susie is hitched at the edge of camp to visit with her for a moment.

“How ya doin’, girl?” she asks as she pats the horse on the neck.

Upon hearing a rustling behind her, she flips around just in time to see Kieran exiting his tent not far away from her.

“Miss Emmeline?” he croaks out, his voice still tinged with sleep.

“I’m sorry, Kieran. I didn’t mean to wake you. I honestly forgot your tent was over here.”

“That’s okay.” He moves to the other side of Miss Susie, petting her on the nose. “It ain’t too much before I’d get up anyway.”

“I need to thank you for taking such good care of her,” she says as she continues to stroke the horse’s coat. “I haven’t gotten the chance to take her out much lately.”

“She’s a real good horse. Very friendly. I must admit that she’s my favorite to ride out of all of them.”

She smiles. “Really?”

“Most of the other horses only accept one rider in the saddle. Miss Susie here don’t mind me taking her out at all.” He pats her neck. “I’ll get her a couple of carrots for a treat.”

He starts to move further away to where he keeps his supplies while Emmeline continues to pet her horse. Suddenly, there’s a scuffle and when she turns to look, she sees a man in a green vest grappling with Kieran, trying to pull him off into the woods.

“No!” she screams at the top of her lungs and instinctively runs toward the man that she realizes must be an O’Driscoll with what Arthur has told her about them. She doesn’t have any weapons on her and she’s only in her nightgown, but she doesn’t let that stop her from trying to help Kieran. Jumping on the O’Driscoll’s back, she forces one arm around his neck and tries to pull him away.

Unbeknownst to her, the O’Driscoll hadn’t arrived alone. His partner roughly grabs her by the shoulders and throws her off the first man and onto the ground hard. She’s stunned for a moment, but once a gunshot rings out, she comes to just in time to see the man on Kieran crumble to the ground.

With the O’Driscoll’s plan well and truly bungled by the surprise appearance of the raven haired woman, the remaining man can only think about making it out alive. He quickly pulls the woman in front of him up by the hair and holds her to his chest, using her as a shield.

“One move and she gets it,” he calls out to Bill, first and foremost, since he’s the only one close by with a gun. That’s not going to last for much longer, though. He can hear everyone else in the camp stirring at the noise. And with the sun starting to bathe the landscape with light, he no longer has the cover of darkness on his side.

“Let her go,” Kieran pleads.

The O’Driscoll knows he has to make a run for it now before he has more guns trained on him. He figures that the only chance he’ll get is if he kills the girl, catching them off guard enough to make his escape. He cocks his gun then a shot rings out.

Meanwhile, Arthur is pulled from sleep by the sound of Emmeline screaming “No!” It’s faint, but it’s like his mind is attuned to her voice. Without much thought, he grabs his gun belt and runs out of his room in only his union suit. As he’s running down the stairs, he’s bucking his belt around his hips and drawing his Schofield, ready for a fight. The sun is just barely up, but there’s enough light that he can see a man on the edge of camp holding Emmeline to his chest. Their right sides are facing Arthur so he gets a good look at the gun the O’Driscoll is holding to her head. 

Arthur runs full bore at them. Without slowing even a little bit, he readies his gun to shoot the man behind Emmeline. Despite everything going on around Arthur, he somehow sees the small movement of the man’s thumb pulling back the hammer on his gun. Time seems to slow as Arthur lines up his shot to the side of the man’s head before he can fire his gun. Arthur wastes no time in pulling his own trigger, sending a bullet straight into the O’Driscoll’s temple, dropping him. 

Emmeline thinks she’s been shot for a moment. She waits for the pain to radiate through her, but it doesn’t come. The only feeling she gets is the cool morning air rushing over her back, signaling that the man that had been holding her isn’t behind her anymore. Before she can turn to see what had happened to him, Arthur rushes over and turns her back to him. 

“Don’t look, sweetheart,” he says hurriedly. 

Bill’s voice calls out, “We got more bastards coming!”

Without a thought, Arthur picks Emmeline up, cradling her to his chest and runs back to the house. Gunshots start to ring out as he gets closer to the front doors. Before he can open them himself, Dutch bursts through them, both of his guns in his hands. 

“Get her in here with the women!” he calls out to Arthur then starts shooting from the porch. 

Arthur deposits her just inside. “Run upstairs to Abigail.” He places a kiss on her forehead then turns to go back outside. 

Emmeline does as instructed and rushes up to the Marston’s room. She finds Abigail cradling a crying Jack to her chest on the bed. 

“Get in here!” Abigail holds her free arm out to Emmeline and she huddled up next to the woman. 

Though they’re about the same age, Emmeline allows Abigail to hold her as if she were her mother. She wraps one arm around Abigail’s back and places the other around Jack as an added layer of protection for him. 

Outside, the firefight is intense. Round after round of O’Driscolls come at them. It has to be every single member of the gang, Arthur reckons. He sticks right beside Dutch as the man takes down his fair share of enemies. That is until he hears Sadie scream from behind the house. 

“Go,” Dutch calls out unprompted. “I’ll cover you.”

Arthur runs around the house as Dutch takes down any men that might shoot at him. When he sees Sadie, she’s pinned down behind one of the buildings in the back. He fights his way toward her, then the two fight their way back out, clearing out all the O’Driscolls that had flanked the house. Soon, the gunshots fade as the few remaining enemies retreat. 

Arthur doesn’t even give himself a minute to rest before he’s rushing back into the house and up the stairs. John is hot on his heels as he’s thinking similarly to Arthur in wanting to check on his family. Both men come through the door to the Marston’s room and see the women and Jack sitting on the bed, still cuddled together. 

Upon seeing Arthur, Emmeline jumps up and runs over to him, enveloping him in a hug. “Are you hurt?” she asks into his shoulder. 

“I’m okay.” He pulls back to look at her. “You okay?”

She nods, her eyes still watery with unshed tears. The battle had certainly shaken her up.

He pulls her back into him and cradles her head to his chest. “It’s alright. It’s over now,” he whispers to the top of her head. After a moment, he looks over to John, now sitting beside Abigail and Jack, his arm around them. “We need to get out of here,” he says suddenly. 

John looks at him confused. “What do you mean?”

Emmeline backs up to look at Arthur as well. “Are they coming back?” She takes his statement as meaning that they need to clear out the camp again.

“No. I don’t know.” Arthur shakes his head. “I mean  _ we _ ,” he gestures between himself and John, “should leave.”

“What are you saying?” John bites back. 

“This life ain’t no place to raise a family, John. We all know that. Jack shouldn’t be raised like this.” He looks over to Emmeline. “No child should. Both of us need to seriously start thinkin’ about leaving.”

John stands with a huff. “All the shit you gave me for leaving and now you’re suggesting it?!”

Arthur takes a step towards the younger man. “You didn’t just leave  _ us _ . You left  _ them _ .” He gestures to Abigail and Jack. “Your responsibilities to the gang are one thing, but you left your responsibilities as a father.  _ That’s _ what I gave you shit about. That boy needed a father. Still does. And this life more ‘n likely is gonna end in him losing you. Or bein’ an orphan.”

“Arthur’s right, John,” Abigail concurs as Jack still clutches his arms around her, though he’s cried himself out and is now falling asleep despite the voices around him. “We can’t keep doin’ this forever. Jack’s getting older and he’s gonna be aware of what we do pretty soon. What  _ you _ do. He’s a good boy. Smart, you know. He could do so much more than either of us.”

Emmeline feels a bit like a third wheel in this conversation. Though, undoubtedly, she’s one part of the subject of the conversation, everyone else besides her is dealing with a history she’s not involved with. Arthur and John have lived together for over a decade as brothers, for lack of a better word. And Abigail has been with the gang for a few years as well. The decision whether or not to leave the group certainly must be a difficult one for them. The input of a person that’s only been there for a few weeks probably won’t be very welcome at this point, so Emmeline keeps her mouth shut.

John looks from Abigail to Arthur then flicks his gaze over to Emmeline. “You plannin’ on leavin’ with her?” he asks Arthur.

“Don’t have no plans, really.” Arthur runs his hand over his beard as he lets out a sigh. “That O’Driscoll had his gun to her head, fixin’ to shoot her,” he says as he gestures to Emmeline. “In  _ one second _ she coulda been gone. I coulda lost that chance to...” he swallows roughly at the thought, “to be a father. All because of some old gang feud she ain’t had no part in.”

Not knowing what to say, Emmeline just takes Arthur’s hand in hers. Truth be told, she was specifically avoiding thinking about how close she came to death. And how close Arthur came to it as he battled outside. This whole situation is something she’s never had to deal with before.

Heavy footsteps echo in the hallway outside the room causing everyone to look in that direction.

“Arthur, John?” Dutch’s voice calls out as the footsteps grow nearer.

“In here,” Arthur answers.

A moment later, Dutch appears in the doorway, looking more lively than he has of recent. “Everyone alright in here?”

Everyone nods.

“Good,” Dutch continues. “No major injuries on our side. It seems the O’Driscolls plan was thwarted thanks to you, Emmeline.”

“Oh?” she replies. “I didn’t really do nothing.”

“You alerted us,” Dutch says, pride in his voice. “And Kieran told me you went after the man that attacked him. That was very brave.”

Arthur whips his head around to look at her. “You  _ what _ ?”

“I just reacted,” she answers. “I saw someone hurting Kieran, so I tried to stop it.”

“You can’t do that,” Arthur asserts.

“Now, son,” Dutch interjects, “she most certainly saved that poor boy from a grisly fate. I think she deserves praise for that.”

Emmeline gives Dutch a genuine smile. Despite the fact that she hasn’t known the man that fathered her for that long, she’s not immune to his charms. Much like the way he’s fostered loyalty in Arthur over the years, she feels a sense of pride that the man is complementing her.

Arthur, on the other hand, is not happy. “I don’t think we should be encouraging her to put herself in danger.”

“It’s not encouragement, Arthur. Just acknowledgement.” Dutch pauses then lets out a heavy breath. “That’s not why I’m here, anyway. Javier caught one of the O’Driscolls before he could run away. I thought I could use you two,” he gestures to Arthur and John, “to interrogate him. See if he won’t tell us where that bastard Colm is so we can return his  _ hospitality _ .” The word is laced with venom.

Arthur and John share a look before nodding. 

“I gotta get dressed first,” Arthur says as he turns to leave with John and Dutch.

“Meet us in one of the buildings in the back,” Dutch calls out as he an John start to descend the stairs.

Emmeline follows Arthur over to their room. “Did you really mean all that?” she asks while he gathers some clothes from his trunk. “About leaving?”

He pauses his motion and turns back to her. “I’ve been scared since... the doctor told us we was gonna be parents, really. Scared what kinda father I’d be. Scared what Dutch is gonna say. Scared about it changing everything here, my whole life, everything I’ve ever known. But all of that weren’t nothing compared to how scared I was when I thought I was gonna lose the two ‘a you. And I don’t wanna leave you a widow, neither. We  _ both _ need to get outta this. Together.”

She gives him a soft smile as she looks up at him. “That’s what I want, too.” 

Over the last few weeks, Emmeline has come to care for the people around her in the camp. All she’s seen is people working together in a normal way, doing everyday things like tending the horses and cleaning up. But this burst of violence is unlike anything she’s ever experienced. She’s never been so close to gunfire, never seen anyone be fought with or shot. Now that she has, she wants nothing more than to never experience that again. If that means leaving everyone here... it’ll be hard, but she’s fine with it as long as she, Arthur, and the baby are safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait for this. It seems I’m always apologizing for being late with these chapters. :( I hope you guys enjoyed it despite that.  
> Thanks for continuing to read!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old rival is dealt with and some secrets come to light.  
> *possible spoilers but things happen differently from the game*

After Arthur dresses, he heads out the back door of the manor house to meet Dutch and John in one of the outbuildings. The muggy swamp air hangs thick around him, but it doesn’t hinder him from trudging through the soft earth toward the dilapidated former slave quarters. The distinct sound of someone being beaten allows him to pinpoint exactly which building they have the O’Driscoll held captive, so he heads that way.

“Arthur!” Sadie’s raspy voice calls out as she rushes up to him from behind. “Hang on!”

He pauses, but continues on his way without looking at her. “Now, Sadie, why don’t you head on back inside-“

“No,” she insists as she catches up to walk beside him. “There’s no way I’m not getting my hands on that O’Driscoll. I promised I’d make every single one of them pay for what they did to me and my Jake and I aim to keep that promise.”

Arthur stops begrudgingly and turns to her with a sigh, knowing she won’t drop the issue. “We need to get some information from him first, okay? I promise it ain’t gonna be good for him; he’s gonna suffer. But we need to get out of him where Colm is before we let ‘im die. If I let you in there, can you promise me you won’t go blowing his head off before we get what we want?”

She looks him dead in the eye as she answers. “Yeah. I promise I’ll let you torture Colm’s location out of him before I kill him.”

Arthur’s not convinced. Especially with the way she looked during the battle against the O’Driscolls that ended not even an hour ago. The sight of her firing off rounds into the enemy and screaming the whole while like a banshee made her look like a woman possessed. And that rage doesn’t just go away. 

“Leave your guns out here,” he finally says, pointing to the ground.

She lets out a huff, knowing that he has a point. With the blind rage she feels every time she even hears the name O’Driscoll, she can’t trust herself not to kill the man the second she sees him. 

“Fine.” She drops her pistols on the ground and follows Arthur the rest of the way to the broken down shack at the edge of the property.

Once the pair enters the building, they see the young O’Driscoll, his arms and legs both strapped down to a chair. Considering the two black eyes and fat lip he’s sporting, Dutch and John must have already worked him over.

“Arthur,” Dutch greets him as if he’s walked into a party. “And Mrs. Adler,” he adds, though his voice drops slightly.

The woman in question stares daggers at the O’Driscoll before her, but she restrains herself from pouncing on him. Rather, she moves back to lean against the wall as she crosses her arms over her chest in a wordless gesture saying that she’ll be hands off on this. At least right now.

Dutch takes notice then continues. “John and I were just asking our new friend here about his boss, but he’s been less than forthcoming. Perhaps you could try your hand, Arthur. You always were very  _ persuasive _ .”

Arthur knows what that means; he’s to beat the information out of him. To make sure the O’Driscoll is good and intimidated, Arthur makes a show of rolling up his sleeves slowly and taking his hat off before leaning down to the young man’s face. 

“Where’s Colm?” he growls, hoping the man will make this easy by cracking immediately. But of course, he doesn’t.

“Fuck you,” the O’Driscoll spits out in his Irish accent, though it’s muffled from the blood pooling in his mouth from the blows he’s already suffered.

Arthur’s only response is a swift punch to the guy’s gut, knocking the wind from him. As he coughs and sputters to try to get the air that had been punched out of him back into his lungs, Dutch lights up a cigar and casually saunters closer.

“It’s only going to get harder, O’Driscoll,” Dutch calls out in a sing song way. “Best bet is to talk now.”

The man flicks his gaze around all the faces in the room, to the younger dark haired man with the scars to his right, then to the two men standing in front of him and finally to the woman leaning on the back wall with murder in her eyes. “Colm told me about all ‘a yous.” He fixes his gaze on the oldest man that he’s recognized as Dutch. “You especially. You can’t just murder a man’s kin, his  _ brother _ , and expect not to pay.”

“I  _ did _ pay!” Dutch yells as he trades position with Arthur to stand directly in front of their captive. “Colm murdered someone dear to me and I loved her more than Colm ever cared about his good for nothing brother, I assure you of that.  _ He _ still owes  _ me _ .” To punctuate the point, Dutch stubs out his lit cigar on the back of the man’s hand, eliciting a growl of pain from him.

Arthur moves to the man’s side and grabs him by the hair, wrenching his head up to look at him. “Where’s Colm?” he growls as he rears back like he’s going to punch him again.

“Y-You can’t do nothin’ about it,” the O’Driscoll answers in a moment of weakness, his resolve to remain loyal to his leader momentarily waning with the prospect of another blow.

“Do about what?” John asks as he steps closer.

The young man steels himself, mustering the courage to hold out. “Don’t matter. You ain’t gettin’ nothin’ more from me!”

Before anyone else can react, Sadie flies out of nowhere brandishing her hunting knife with both her hands. She swings the blade above her head and down, burying it deeply in the man’s left thigh. 

“Where’s Colm?!” she screams. “Answer us!”

The O’Driscoll squeals in pain at the sudden shock of being stabbed. “You crazy bitch!”

Arthur pulls Sadie back by the shoulder before she can do any more damage, cursing himself for not noticing that she had kept her knife on her. He decides to make the best out of the situation and wraps his hand around the blade still stuck in the O’Driscoll’s leg. He wiggles it a little to produce more pain, hoping that he will finally break. “Last chance, O’Driscoll. Answer or I’ll pull this knife out and watch you bleed to death. Slowly. And painfully.”

He looks up to Arthur, barely able to catch his breath out of pain and fear. His resolve crumbles quickly at the prospect that the man in front of him is telling the truth. For as much as Colm O’Driscoll has spouted that the gang always comes first, the decision to actually try to save his own life comes easy for the young man staring death in the face. 

“Saint Denis,” he finally whispers. “Colm’s in Saint Denis. Pinkertons picked him up right after you didn’t show up to the meet. Said he weren’t no use to them no more.”

Dutch steps forward. It’s certainly good to have that information, but something else has been bothering him. “How did you know we were here at Shady Belle?” Depending on the answer, they may have to move camp yet again.

“W-We saw two of your men in a wagon in Valentine,” he starts to explain. “Followed ‘em here.”

Arthur figures that’s possible. When it became clear that Emmeline had permanently relocated from her home, he had sent out Sean and Lenny to pick up Emmeline’s chickens and coop to bring back to Shady Belle. Neither of the two young men have a whole lot of experience and may not have realized they were being followed all the way back to camp.

“Did you tell the Pinkertons?” Arthur asks instantly. That’s the real question. If they know where they are, they could already be on their way here.

“We’re on the run from them now just like you are!” the O’Driscoll bites back. “We ain’t talked to those lyin’ bastards since they took Colm!”

It seems to everyone that the man is probably telling the truth, so their camp is safe for now. But there’s still the issue of Colm.

“Where exactly in Saint Denis are they keeping him?” Dutch asks.

“How the hell should I know!” When Arthur winds up to punch him, the O’Driscoll backs off. “No, no, no! Wait!” he calls out anxiously. “Theys gonna hang him today. I swear! That’s why we went after yous.” His eyes flit around the room, knowing that he’s said too much. “S-So you’ll get your revenge anyway. Even if you do nothin’,” he tries, hoping they don’t put it together.

Dutch shares a look with Arthur, the two of them instantly picking up the real reason behind the O’Driscolls’ quick attack. 

“As much as I hate that man,” Dutch starts, “I have to admit that Colm’s smart enough that he’s managed to slip the noose many times before. I also know that he’s smart enough to realize that if he’s going to be strung up anywhere near where I am, I’d make sure he gets properly hung. So this little skirmish we just engaged in tells me for certain that Colm has a plan in place to escape his execution today. And that he doesn’t want me to ruin it. So thank you for confirming that.” Dutch gives Arthur a nod, wordlessly conveying his orders to the younger man.

Without a second’s notice, Arthur pulls the large knife from the O’Driscoll’s leg, making sure to twist it on the way out. As the man screams in pain, Arthur hands the blade back to Sadie and gestures back to the man, making it clear that she’s to dispatch of him.

“Hey, wait!” the man yells. “I told ya what ya wanted!”

His plea doesn’t stop Sadie as she walks forward to him. “You O’Driscolls ruined my life!” She suddenly stabs him in the gut with a punch. “Killed my husband!” She stabs him again. “Forced yourselves on me!” Her hand starts to slip on the hilt as it’s covered with blood, but she continues. “ _ You ruined my life! _ ” Using all the power she can muster, she forces the blade up and under his rib cage, puncturing his heart and killing him instantly. His head lolls to the side as the life leaves his body. 

Despite the fact that he’s long gone, Sadie keeps stabbing him repeatedly anywhere she can. Once his torso starts to lose it’s shape from the repeated wounds, Arthur gently puts his hand on her shoulder, drawing her out of her rage.

“He’s dead, Sadie,” he says softly. “That’s enough.”

Breathing roughly, she pulls back from the man slumped in the chair and looks down at her bloodstained hands. She wonders just what kind of person she’s become through all of this. Is she even recognizable as herself anymore?

John jumps in, unaware of the battle raging in Sadie’s mind. “You really think after how many O’Driscolls we just killed today that they can still rescue Colm from Saint Denis?”

“I reckon there’s more than enough of those bastards left to save Colm from the gallows,” Dutch answers. “We need to make sure they don’t succeed.”

“We better get goin’ then,” Arthur comments. “If we wanna get there in time to stop them.”

Dutch nods in agreement. “John, you take care of him,” he gestures to the dead man in the chair then looks up to Sadie and Arthur. “We need to see Hosea about a change of clothing.”

Arthur recognizes the look in Dutch’s eye; he already has a plan cooked up in his head. Once they find Hosea and tell him everything as quickly as possible, the older man is immediately on board.

“I have a couple of Saint Denis police uniforms that should fit you fellas. They’ll get you close without raising suspicion,” he explains as he pulls the outfits from a trunk in the back of one of the wagons. “As for you, Mrs. Adler,” he roots around more, finding a fancy yellow dress with a frilly lace front, “I think a high society lady traversing the streets of the city will go unnoticed by anyone looking for outlaws.”

She takes the frock into her freshly cleaned hands, then the large feathered hat he produces as well. “Ain’t exactly worn nothin’ like this. And I sure as hell ain’t a high society lady.”

“Well, you are today, my dear,” Dutch comments.

After they change into their costumes, they all mount up and leave. During the ride, they strategize what they’re going to do. If they’ve made it in time and Colm’s not long gone yet, they’ll patrol the crowd to see if any of Colm’s men are around fixing to make a daring rescue of their leader. If they are in the crowd, they’ll make damn sure to keep them occupied so that Colm gets seen through on his execution.

As they finally approach Guiteau Square, the high noon sun beats down on them. That doesn’t deter the rapidly gathering crowd from congregating in front of the gallows hoping to get a good view of the show about to come. They all look on expectantly as the hangman trudges up the steps to check the noose already hanging on the crossbar on preparation.

“Good,” Dutch says quietly to his companions. “We didn’t miss it.” When he looks over all the people standing in the square, he thinks he recognizes a few of them. He leans in closer to Arthur to whisper, “Those two idiots look familiar?” He gestures to two men talking with another man in the crowd.

“Yeah,” Arthur answers. “They definitely run with Colm.” 

“Guess it’s a good idea we decided to show up, then,” Dutch comments with a smirk.

As they watch the O’Driscolls, they notice them periodically turn and look across the street.

“What are they looking at?” Dutch asks almost to himself as he turns to see.

“One of ‘em’s comin’ this way,” Arthur warns and the three Van Der Lindes look away as to not raise suspicion. They discreetly watch the man cross the street and head away from them in the direction they had been looking.

“Better see where he’s going,” Dutch says to Arthur. “Me and Mrs. Adler will keep our eyes on those two.” He gestures to the two O’Driscolls still standing in the crowd.

Arthur nods and starts to follow the man away from the square. Keeping a safe distance, he meanders the alleyways behind the man until he sees him ascend a latter onto a fire escape. He continues on, hopping up onto a nearby rooftop and crossing over to another building, the building that happens to be directly across the street from where Colm will be hanged. 

Luckily for Arthur, the O’Driscoll isn’t the most observant, so instead of checking his surroundings first, he goes straight to the sniper rifle that must have been stashed there earlier. He takes up his position to get a good look at Guiteau Square. And most likely the noose he’s set to shoot down to save Colm from hanging.

As quietly as he can, Arthur pulls his knife from its sheath and sneaks up behind the distracted O’Driscoll. It takes just a moment for Arthur to bury his knife in the back of the man’s neck, severing his spinal cord and killing him almost instantly.

Movement on the raised platform of the gallows below catches Arthur’s eye after he unceremoniously drops the dead man’s body to the ground. He picks up the O’Driscoll’s discarded sniper rifle and raises the scope to his eye to get a better look. Colm had been brought out while Arthur was killing the sniper and the noose now rests around his neck. The bright sunlight of this cloudless day makes it easy for Arthur to see the smug smile on Colm’s face through the scope. It’s the smile of a man expecting to walk away from this unscathed, confident that the plan he has in place will go off without a hitch. Arthur sees that expression fall slightly as the man casts his eyes down to the crowd. Arthur follows his gaze to see that Sadie and Dutch are now holding onto the two O’Driscolls in the crowd, guns to their heads to keep them from doing anything stupid. Once Colm raises is gaze to see Arthur in the sniper’s nest, pure fear washes over his face as the realization hits that his plan has been thwarted. This  _ will _ be his last day on earth and there’s nothing he can do about it now.

Arthur sends an obnoxious wave over to him to hit the point home. “You’re gon’ hang, Colm,” he says under his breath. “Once and for all.”

The hangman wastes no time in shouting out Colm’s charges, but Arthur can barely hear them over the distance. He’s focused on looking through the scope right at Colm’s face, anyway, not wanting to miss a single second of the man’s fear as his execution approaches. Just a moment later, the hangman pulls the lever and Colm finally falls through the drop door to his long overdo death. 

Arthur’s seen men die before, many times. He’s even witnessed hangings and it’s never much affected him. This one does, though, not for what it is but what it will mean from now on. The air leaves Arthur’s lungs as if a weight has been lifted from him. Dutch’s rivalry with Colm that’s lasted for almost as many years as Arthur’s been in the gang is now over. He only gets a second to really feel the weight of that before a shot rings out (as well as a scream that sounds suspiciously like Sadie’s angry voice) and then everyone in the square is scattering.

“Arthur! O’Driscolls!” Dutch’s loud voice reaches Arthur’s ears and he jumps into action.

There aren’t many O’Driscolls left, but there are enough rushing into the square to keep Dutch and Sadie pinned down in their positions ducked down behind the low wall surrounding the square. Arthur quickly pinpoints the men battling to avenge their fallen leader and dispatches them with utmost efficiency. Soon enough, the din of the gunshots is punctuated by a cacophony of police whistles as the local law enforcement descends on the scene, adding to the anarchy. Fortunately, Dutch’s cop costume keeps the heat from the actual cops away from him and Sadie as they try to take out the last of the O’Driscolls.

Their anonymity doesn’t last forever, though. One observant officer ends up rushing to take cover right beside Dutch. As soon as he gets a good look at Dutch’s face, his eyes widen in recognition. Dutch sees the look of familiarity sweep through the man’s eyes and knows the tide will surely turn if this young man is allowed to call attention to the outlaw in his midst. Without an extra second’s thought, Dutch silences the cop with a well placed bullet through the top of his head before he can alert anyone.

“We need to get outta here!” Dutch shouts to Sadie.

Arthur can see the moment things start to change. With the law finally outnumbering the O’Driscolls, they start to look around for the cause of the battle. More and more of their eyes are focusing on Dutch and Sadie, which is decidedly a bad thing. It’s one thing to fight O’Driscolls in the streets, but having the entire police force of Saint Denis coming for you is quite another.

The two Van Der Lindes on the ground have no choice but to rush away from the police and toward one of the alleys that the leftover O’Driscolls are holed up in. It would certainly be a death trap on any other occasion, but Dutch knows that Arthur has line of sight on this particular alley. As if on cue, every O’Driscoll that peeks his head out to get a shot on Dutch and Sadie ends up with a fresh bullet hole between the eyes, courtesy of the sniper rifle they so generously provided in the fight in the first place.

Dutch gives a little wave, signaling to Arthur that all the O’Driscolls in the immediate area are gone. When Dutch and Sadie start to strip off their costumes in favor of putting on their normal outfits, Arthur follows suit, pulling his extra clothes from his satchel. Abandoning the uniform and the rifle on the roof, Arthur makes his way down to street level and across the few blocks to where their horses are hitched.

“Come on, Arthur. Hurry up,” Dutch spurs the younger man to move faster down the street as he hops up into his saddle. “We need to get outta here before the police really catch onto us.”

As Arthur mounts Sparrow and turns to follow Dutch, he looks to his right to Sadie. “You alright?”

She tears her eyes away from the road ahead to look his way. “We got ‘em, Arthur,” she chokes out, though no tears come to her eyes; they never do anymore. “Who we didn’t kill, the law finished off. There ain’t no more O’Driscolls thanks to us, so I feel...” She thinks a moment. Happy’s not the word; the grief of losing her husband is still too great to allow for that. “I feel... relieved,” she settles on. “Those monsters won’t ever hurt anyone else. And I’m more than okay with that.”

Meanwhile back at camp, from the moment the trio leaves Shady Belle, everyone else in the gang has been a little on edge. Not only are they wondering if the small group would be successful in making sure Colm finally gets his due, but they have the mess around the property to deal with, too. It’s all hands on deck to try to dispose of the dead O’Driscolls lying around. Fortunately, the swamp around them (and the alligators in it) provides the perfect place to do just that, but all those bodies still need to make their way there.

The thought of having to touch dead corpses horrifies Emmeline, but she doesn’t want to let anyone down. She is a part of this group, so she’s determined to pitch in as much as she can. 

“You can do this,” she whispers to herself before she pushes through the front door of the main house and walks out onto the porch. A wave of nausea passes over her as she steps closer to one of the bodies off by the gazebo, knowing what she has to do. “He was a bad man,” she mutters to reassure herself as she rolls the sleeves of her blouse to her elbows. Tossing a glance back to the wagon being laden with dead bodies, she bends down and wraps her fingers around the dead O’Driscoll’s ankles, fixing to drag him in that direction. After only a few feet, she’s interrupted by Hosea’s voice.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there,” he calls out as he rushes toward her. “You should be inside, Emmeline.”

She gently drops the O’Driscoll’s feet, as if she could still hurt him if she was too rough. “It’s okay. I want to help out.”

He doesn’t take that for an answer. Instead, he wraps his arm around her shoulders and turns her back toward the house. “I’m sure Jack would be pleased with your company upstairs. Besides, it’s too hot out here. You shouldn’t overexert yourself in your condition.”

“C-Condition?” she asks, playing dumb in case he doesn’t actually know her secret and means something else.

He chuckles, leading her back up the porch steps and through the door. “Yes. Your  _ condition _ .” He stops them in the sitting room, knowing that everyone else is too busy to hear their conversation. “I admit that I should have seen it sooner. Age really is creeping up on me. Dulling the senses.” He holds his hand out, gesturing for her to sit onto the couch. He follows after, planting himself down with a groan and creaking joints.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve lived my whole life as a conman, dear girl. I’ve learned to read people, pick up on little cues, little traits that tell me everything I need to know about them. I wasn’t too sure about your...  _ situation _ at first. Not until I saw the way John’s been looking at you like he’s terrified. The same way he looked at Abigail when she was with child, though not quite as bad. I reckon ‘cause he knows he’s not the father in this case.” He shakes his head. “That boy still ain’t comfortable with children, despite having one of his own.”

“Abigail figured it out pretty quick,” Emmeline explains. “And she told John the second she was sure. He hasn’t really said much to me about it since then.”

Hosea nods. “Abigail’s smarter than people give her credit for. And John,” he laughs, “finesse ain’t exactly his strong suit. We’ve had to fight our way out of more situations than I care to think about because he blew our cover.”

“Really?” she says with a giggle. “I guess Arthur and I will have to start telling people soon, anyway. People are bound to notice when I start showing through my dress.”

“You and Arthur have time yet, I’m betting.” He pats her on the knee gently. “I’m so happy for Arthur to become a father. I know he always wanted to have children.”

“He did?” she asks, confused. Arthur hadn’t really told her that in so many words.

He nods. “He may not admit it, maybe not even to himself, but I know deep down he’s wanted a family. All you have to do is look at how he treats Jack. He’s been more of a father to that boy than Marston‘s been, really. Did everything for him in the beginning. If Abigail hadn’t’ve loved John so much, I reckon Arthur woulda married her just to give the boy a proper family when John left.”

“Arthur wants to leave,” she admits quietly. “Leave the gang with me and the Marstons. So we can raise the children away from this.”

He lets out a heavy breath. “He’s smart to want that. We all know this isn’t gonna end well, deep down. We just try to prolong it, day by day, however we can.” He grasps her hand in his and gives her a poignant look. “You tell him it’s alright to leave all this, Emmeline. Even if he’s said he wants to leave, he’ll wrestle with getting away from this life, leaving us. You tell him he can go. He doesn’t owe us nothing more.”

The vehemence with which he says it has Emmeline nodding automatically. She had a feeling that Arthur would have a hard time with following through on leaving. Especially given how much he sees the gang as his family.

It takes a while, but the property finally gets completely cleaned up. It isn’t much longer after that when Dutch, Arthur, and Sadie get back to the camp. Once everyone sees the three riders galloping down the trail toward the house, they hold their breath in anticipation. The second Dutch hitches The Count and looks up with a bright smiling face and outstretched arms, everyone breaks out in cheers knowing that the trio was successful in their mission. The Van Der Linde’s oldest rival has been taken down. And now it’s time to celebrate.

Liquor flows. Songs are sung. Stories are told. The mood around camp is light and jovial as everyone enjoys the party, some around the fire, some at Pearson’s tent, and some dancing in the middle to the music from Dutch’s phonograph.

From her seat on the log by the fire, Emmeline watches Karen and Sean swaying to and fro together arrhythmically to the music, both of them already three sheets to the wind. It doesn’t stop them from looking like they’re anything but happy together, though.

“You doin’ alright?” Arthur’s voice draws her attention away from the couple.

She turns back to him beside her and gives him a smile. “Yeah. I’m fine, Arthur.”

“What you went through today...” he lets out a heavy breath, thinking about how she was held at gunpoint earlier, “I don’t want you to ever go through that again. Don’t ever want you in danger.”

“I don’t want  _ either _ of us in danger.” Remembering the conversation she had earlier with Hosea, she scoots closer to Arthur to speak with him more quietly. “I know it’s gonna be hard,” she whispers and takes her hand in his, “but I think we should-“ She’s interrupted by Dutch coming up from behind and clapping Arthur on the shoulder.

“What’s with the long face, Arthur?” he asks with a huge smile as he walks around to stand before them. “We’re celebrating, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Arthur looks up to him. “I know, Dutch. I’ve been waitin’ to see Colm hang for a long time.” He shakes his head a little and scratches at the back of his neck not wanting to tell Dutch about the way his insides twist thinking about how Emmeline and their baby had been in danger today. “Guess I’m just tired. Long day.”

“That it’s been.” Dutch plants himself down next to Emmeline, unaware he’s interrupted the conversation she wanted to have with Arthur. “Things are gonna change for us,” he says wistfully as he looks to the darkening evening sky. “I can feel it. Our luck is gonna change.”

“I sure hope so,” Arthur quips.

“Come on, Arthur,” Dutch replies, though his happy tone doesn’t fall much. He bumps Emmeline with his shoulder. “If you keep spending time with him, you’ll end up just as morose as he is.”

She laughs at his joke. “He’s not morose most of the time. He actually makes me laugh.”

Dutch looks overly shocked. “Arthur? Funny? Pfft!”

It makes Emmeline laugh more. It’s nice to see this side of Dutch. Since she’s met him, she actually hasn’t spent much time with him. And with Micah, the Pinkertons, and the move, Dutch hadn’t exactly been up to socializing lately. But now, it seems like he’s back to the man that Arthur had described to her. She thinks it would be nice to actually get to know the man that’s her only living kin.

Having heard the exchange as he grabbed a beer from the box by Pearson’s wagon, Hosea walks up to take a seat across from the small group. “Arthur’s a regular comedian, don’t you know?” he jokes.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright,” Arthur grumbles. “Don’t need you comin’ in here and teasin’ me, too.”

Hosea chuckles a bit. “No need to be so serious, Arthur. This  _ is _ a party, after all.”

“That’s what I was saying.” Dutch rises from his seat and turns back to hold his hand out to Emmeline. “Since your fella is too busy brooding, would you care to dance with me?”

“I ain’t  _ brooding _ ,” Arthur responds, a smile finally tugging his lips upward once he sees Emmeline trying to hold back a giggle. “Go on then.” He shoos her off with a gesture of his hand.

Emmeline takes Dutch’s hand and allows him to lead her to the open area that had occupied Karen and Sean just a moment ago, the couple having vacated, most likely to their tent. Dutch keeps ahold of her left hand in his right as he turns to face her.

“You know how to dance?” He places his left hand gently around her back while he raises his other arm with hers into position.

“Not really,” she admits, placing her free hand on his shoulder. “My father tried to teach me when I was little, but I think I ended up just jumping around.” She laughs at the memories.

As he starts to sway with her, he asks her quietly, “He was good to you?”

She realizes then what she had said. She had called Joseph, the man that raised her, her father. But the man standing before her technically holds that title. It doesn’t make the former feel any less like a parent to her, though. Despite the fact that he was never blood, he will always be her papa.

“He was a very good... father. I loved him.”

Dutch nods his head, then puts a smile on his face. “I’m glad. I could tell he was a good man.” He steps back and lifts her arm up, prompting her to twirl.

When she comes back to him, she lets out a little laugh. “I don’t think I got the hang of spinning when I was eight years old,” she says, trying to bring the conversation to lighter fare.

Dutch isn’t ready to end the conversation that he’s thought about having for years, though. “I did think of you often,” he asserts, his eyes soft as he looks to the young woman in front of him. “I always wanted the best for you. I tried to help out after Joseph died, left money for you and your mother.”

She looks away a moment as they continue to sway to the music. “I know. Arthur told me.”

“So many times I thought about knocking on your door. Introducing myself to you. Making up for lost time.”

“But you didn’t.”

He shakes his head. “No. It wasn’t because I didn’t care about you; I want to make that clear. I always cared about you, Emmeline. And that’s precisely why I never knocked on your door. Your mother was right. It would’ve been dangerous for you.”

“I understand, Dutch,” she reassures him. “I didn’t at first. I wasn’t too happy knowing I was lied to, but... I do understand why you and my parents did what you did. But I’m happy to get to know you now.” She gives him a smile, which he returns easily.

In the meantime, since Arthur is left by himself, he looks over to Hosea. “Sorry about havin’ to leave those costumes of yours back in Saint Denis.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad they did their job and you all made it back safe.”

Arthur nods. “Yeah. Ain’t no more O’Driscolls left after all that.”

“One less thing on our plates.”

“That’s what we need. Things to be more simple. Like they they were before the Pinkertons.” Arthur takes a cigarette out of his satchel and lights it, taking a drag and exhaling the smoke.

“Maybe we should just be tying up loose ends.”

Arthur looks over to the older man in confusion. “Whatchu mean?”

“We’re the last of a dying breed, my boy. And it’s only gonna end one of two ways, accept it and finally become a member of civilization or fight it and go out on the cooling board.” Hosea stands with a groan, his stiff joints protesting momentarily, and walks over to Arthur, placing his hand on his shoulder and leaning down to speak more quietly. “Don’t you make that girl a widow. And don’t you make that child fatherless.”

Arthur looks up to the older man, ready to ask how he knew. But he thinks better of it. Of course Hosea knew; he always does.

As Arthur follows Hosea’s exit, his eyes wander over to Molly as she stands on the front porch. She’s leaning on the railing with her arms crossed over her chest and staring daggers at Dutch and Emmeline as they continue to dance and laugh with one another.

“Shit,” Arthur mutters to himself. He knows exactly what’s going through the fiery redhead’s mind.

Molly has made her jealous streak well known. Just about every woman that Dutch has so much as talked to has gotten the third degree from her. And it’s all only gotten worse as Dutch closed himself off more. It seems that Molly has been coping with that by drinking more which has only made her more volatile.

Before Arthur can do anything about it, Molly stomps over to Emmeline and roughly pulls her back by the arm.

“Arthur ain’t enough for ya, huh, ya trollop,” Molly slurs out, her Irish accent sounding a little bit stronger than normal. She shoves her finger right into Emmeline’s face and yells, “Ya gotta go after Dutch Van Der Linde himself, too!”

Molly’s loud voice draws attention and everyone looks her way, interested at the turn of events. That intrigue only deepens once Arthur jumps up from his seat and rushes over.

“What the hell are you doin’, Molly?” he calls out and quickly puts himself between the woman and Emmeline to prevent a skirmish.

“Yes,” Dutch concurs as he puts his hands on his hips, “what  _ are _ you doing?”

“Oh, don’t you act innocent, Dutch,” Molly seethes, refocusing her rage on him. “She bats her pretty eyes at you and you eat it up.”

“I wasn’t-“ Emmeline starts, but Molly isn’t hearing it.

“You shut up, you hussy! It’s obvious you’re throwing yourself at him!”

Emmeline has never been talked to like this in her whole life and it has her flustered. Flustered enough that she blurts out, “I don’t want Dutch! He’s my  _ father _ !” loud enough that everyone hears.

Audible gasps ring out around the camp at the shock. No one had even an inkling that their newest member was related to Dutch and now it comes out that she’s his  _ daughter _ .

Molly takes a step back and looks to Dutch as she tries to make sense of all of this. “Is that true?”

Dutch lets out a sigh and puts his hand on the shoulder of his formerly secret daughter. “Yes. Emmeline is my daughter,” he says loud enough for all the straining ears around them to hear. “I suppose it’s time to tell you all everything.” He takes his hand off of her and steps forward to address everyone. “Let me explain. I did send Arthur to check on Emmeline, but it wasn’t just because I knew her mother. I knew all along she was my daughter and wanted to make sure she was alright. She and Arthur did get sweet on each other, but the reason he brought her here was because the Pinkertons knew about her. And they wanted to use her to get to me. Why I decided to keep all this quiet was to protect her. But since we now know that  _ Micah _ ,” he hisses the man’s name, “was the one working with the police and he’s no longer here, there’s no reason to keep it a secret anymore.”

Everyone processes the information at their own rate. Some people are stood there shocked while others nod softly their assent. John is firmly in the former category, his gaze flicking quickly between Dutch, Emmeline, and Arthur.

“Emmeline’s your daughter?” he asks aloud, though he’s not exactly looking for a response from the man. “And she and Arthur-“

He’s cut off by a swift elbow to the ribs courtesy of Abigail next to him. “Emmeline and Arthur are together and it don’t rightly matter that Dutch is her father,” she finishes the sentence for him to stop him from saying anything he shouldn’t. “I think it’s good fortune. She’s part of the family no matter what.”

Emmeline smiles to the other raven haired woman. “Thank you, Abigail. That means a lot.”

“Indeed,” Dutch’s booming voice brings attention back to him. “We are all a family here. Now, I know we’ve had some tough times, but they are behind us. Tonight, we celebrate our long overdue victory over the O’Driscolls and tomorrow...” he pauses to make sure all eyes are on him, “we make our plans to free ourselves from the bond of the slavery that this ‘ _ society _ ’ is forcing on us. Stick with me and I promise that you will be able to live free.”

His words sound good, especially to the mostly inebriated ears that hear them. But they make a weight settle in Arthur’s chest. Dutch seems to be back to his old self... but is that really a good thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Sorry about the wait. Writing has been difficult for me, but I hope this long chapter makes up for it.  
> I’m trying to write a little better, so I took more time in editing and thinking about how I want to write things. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.  
> Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A major change happens.

_ It’s been a while since I’ve actually sat down to write, I guess. Things have been real quiet after all that mess we cooked up in Saint Denis at Colm’s execution. But quiet don’t mean I ain’t been busy. Especially since things have been a little harder since we still been laying low. _

_ Me and Charles have been hunting quite a lot. Even convinced Marston to join us a few times. Don’t think that boy’s properly hunted in a long time, but he picked it back up real quick. There’s a bunch of wild hogs living around Shady Belle, so the eating’s pretty good. The pelts are plenty useful (and valuable), too. Plus, Emmeline and Hosea have been fishing, since we’re right by the water. They both got a knack for it, so everyone’s bellies have been kept fairly full even without us buying food from the store. _

_ Those of us who’s more recognizable have had to stay out of the city, so the girls have stepped up to make us some cash to buy other things like ammo and medicine. All of them are mighty good at pickpocketing. And Karen and Mary Beth have some con devised to relieve gullible men of their money. Something about being poor widows looking for work, I guess. It’s working out, anyway, and they insist it’s all safe. Lenny and Kieran usually back them up just in case something would go wrong. It don’t bring in as much money as we’re used to, but we’re making do. _

_ Emmeline tells me that when I’m not here, she’s been spending a lot time with Dutch. She’s happy to get to know him and he seems happy to make up for lost time with her. I guess he’s been telling all kinds of stories, trying to educate her on the evils of society like he has with all the rest of us. That’s what she tells me anyway. I haven’t really talked to him much actually. When I see him with everyone else, he seems like the old Dutch, like how he was before Micah came. Before Blackwater. But he still seems a little different with me. He don’t talk to me the same way, not exactly. I can’t really describe it, but he just seems a little off. And I ain’t so sure I like him talking to Emmeline so much.  _

_ Just the other day, I came back into camp and found Dutch and Emma sitting on the back porch overlooking the swamp. Neither of them knew I was there listening in, which I guess ain’t such a nice thing on my part. Still, I didn’t say I was there and just listened. He was telling her a story about something that happened years ago. I had run across this church that raised a ton of money from its parishioners to build this orphanage in the next town over. Something about it just didn’t seem right, so I dug into it. And I was right. It turned out, there was no plans for any such orphanage at all. The preacher was just raising money for himself so he could gamble it away or spend it on whores. So me and Hosea came up with a plan to steal all that money and dropped it off at the nearest actual orphanage. Strung that bastard up in his own church, too, so his followers could see him for the scoundrel he was. Now that’s what  _ _ actually _ _ happened. But that’s not what Dutch told Emma. He told her  _ _ he _ _ was the one that found the church.  _ _ He _ _ thought there was something going on.  _ _ He _ _ came up with the plan all by himself and  _ _ he _ _ did it all. He didn’t even mention me or Hosea. _

_ Emma, she thought the story was amazing, completely enthralled with Dutch’s knack for the dramatic. And the way she looked at him, like he was some kind of folk hero... I froze. I couldn’t jump out and tell her he was lying, as much as I wanted to know why he did it. I couldn’t break her heart like that, knowing that her father was lying to her right to her face. _

_ But the thing is, Dutch has plenty of stories like that he could tell about himself. That’s practically all he and Hosea did when they was starting out. They was known as “gentleman scoundrels” for years because of it. They’d rob banks and trains, but never took from those who looked like they was poor. They even gave a bunch of the money they took away. It wasn’t until we started picking up more people that things really changed. Money got tight having to feed more of us, so we stopped giving it away. But I’m just wondering, why’d he take  _ _ my _ _ story? Out of everything, why’d he choose to leave me out of my own story that he decided to tell Emma? I can’t quite figure out what he’s thinking. And that’s making me even more anxious for the day that I’ll have to tell Dutch Emmeline’s with child. I guess because I ain’t quite sure how he’s going to act. And it won’t be too much longer before we’re going to have to tell him and everyone else. _

_ Emma’s belly has started to swell. You can’t tell much when she’s clothed, but when we’re in bed alone together, I can see it. Sometimes if she falls asleep before me, I just look at her and see how much the baby’s grown already. It’s amazing and beautiful and terrifying all at the same time. I know this baby is coming and when it does, I’m going to have to be a father. I don’t rightly know what I’m doing in that regard.  _

_ What if I’m like my own father? I don’t want that. Not at all. He weren’t a good father. Will I be like Dutch? Or Hosea? Or even John? I’m not sure if I want any of that, either. I guess John’s doing better now, but he ran away scared at first. And I suppose Dutch and Hosea taught me a lot and they didn’t raise their hands to me or nothing, so that ain’t too bad. But I don’t want to raise a child on the run. I don’t want to teach my son how to beat people or my daughter how to pickpocket. Or sell herself, god forbid. I don’t want my children worrying that if they don’t lie well enough to con some poor sap out of their money that we won’t have the means to eat. I don’t want them to think some lawman is going to come and take their daddy away and hang him in the town square.  _

_ I don’t want none of that. _

 

“Arthur?” Emmeline’s voice draws him out of his thoughts.

He closes his journal swiftly and looks up to her. “Everything alright?” he asks as she approaches him. 

Before she says anything, she takes a seat next to him on the ground. Though the air is hot and muggy, Arthur’s spot is nicely shaded from the large trees standing tall above them. He had seen the little clearing while hunting in the woods just outside of Shady Belle and thought it would be a nice place to get away from camp life without actually traveling too far. 

“Everything’s fine,” she answers his question after situating herself.

“What are you doin’ out here? You shouldn’t wander too far from everyone.”

Emmeline laughs at Arthur’s overprotective nature. “It’s not that far from camp. I could practically see you the whole way over here.” She stretches her legs out in front of her and leans back on the fallen tree behind her to get more comfortable. “Are  _ you _ alright out here?”

He looks over to her. “Course I am.” He puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her into him. He isn’t usually so forward, but since they are away from prying eyes, he indulges in the contact. “Just wanted a little peace and quiet.”

“Oh. If you want me to go, I can-“

“Nah. I like havin’ you wit’ me. When I came back from hunting, I went to find you. I saw you readin’ with Abigail and thought that I didn’t want to interrupt while you was busy.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s doing really well with it. When she went off to get Jack something to eat, I went looking for you, actually.” She giggles at their shared behavior. “Sean told me you walked off this way after you came in, so I followed. I knew you didn’t go too far since you left Sparrow behind.”

“Hadn’t written in my journal in a while. I thought it’d be nice and relaxing to do it out here.”

“Were you drawing something?”

“Didn’t get that far, honestly. But since you’re here, mind bein’ my model?” he asks with a mischievous smile.

She laughs. “I’d be honored.” She fluffs up the hair around her shoulders to try to make it a little more presentable in its half up do, then changes positions so she’s resting her right arm on the log with her legs bent underneath her.

Arthur moves as well, finding a spot across from Emmeline to draw her in profile. Before he starts drawing, he leans back over toward her to smooth her skirt out around her legs, making it look better. “Now stay still.” He puts the pencil to the page, starting to roughly sketch the pose as she sits before him.

She’s never officially posed for anything before, but from pictures and illustrations that she’s seen, she figures a somber expression is what she should be portraying. After a few minutes of posing, though, she finds that the more serious she tries to look, the harder it is to suppress her giggles.

“You ain’t holding still that well,” Arthur comments as he flicks his eyes between the page and Emmeline, continuing to sketch. Though he’s acting all business on the outside, he’s trying hard to keep his composure as well.

“I can’t help it!” she says between giggles, her whole body shaking with the motion. “Nothing’s even funny, but I can’t stop laughing!”

It seems to be contagious as Arthur breaks out in a smile, though he’s still busy sketching. “It’s alright. I’m almost finished anyway.” It takes a few more minutes for him to put the finishing touches on his masterpiece. Once he deems it finished, he stands up and goes back over to her.

“Let me see it,” she requests impatiently, making grabby hands at him before he even gets to her.

He sits down beside her then finally hands the book over. “Whatcha think?”

She laughs at first as soon as she looks at the page. The picture isn’t anything like what she thought it would be. Instead of the careful pose that she had thought would look best (and failed to do), Arthur had chosen to capture the way she looked trying not to laugh. Her shoulders are hunched slightly, one hand trying to cover her smiling mouth and the other is laying across her stomach. “Is that really what I looked like?”

“As best as I could get it,” he replies gently. “I like the way you look when you laugh.”

She smiles up at him. “Really?”

He tucks a lock of her hair that had fallen out of its pin behind her ear. “Yeah.”

She leans forward to kiss him, though the smile never leaves her lips. When she pulls back, she looks down at the journal still in her hands. “How many pictures of me do you got in this thing?” she asks teasingly as she hold the leather bound book up.

Arthur’s cheeks redden before he can answer. “A few.”

“Can I see them? I remember asking once before and you told me you would at some point. But you never have,” she remarks, continuing her teasing tone.

He clears his throat nervously. “Uh. Sure.” Taking the book from her, he flips through a few pages to find one of his better drawings. “Here’s one.” 

Instead of taking the book from him, she leans over him, practically laying her head on his shoulder. The drawing depicts her sitting at the small desk in their room as she writes in her own book. She’s only in her nightgown, so she figures Arthur must have drawn it early one morning.

“I like it,” she comments cheerily. “Though you could’ve asked me to brush my hair first,” she jokes, referring to her rather bushy looking tresses.

He flips through more pages quickly, trying to find another good one. In the process, he skips over one that he’s a little embarrassed about, hoping that Emmeline wouldn’t notice it. Despite his speed, she catches a glimpse of it and sets her hand over his, stopping his motion.

“What was that one?”

“Weren’t nothin’.” He tries to flip though more pages, but Emmeline’s hand doesn’t budge.

“Arthur.” She looks over to him and he relents, allowing her to flip back a few pages to see what caught her eye.

Emmeline can tell the picture is definitely of her, seeing as she can see  _ a lot _ of herself. She’s laying down on her side in their shared bed in Shady Belle, a thin blanket draped over her hips, only partly covering her lower half. Her torso is completely bare, with both her hands tucked underneath her cheek. Her hair is loose and unkempt, though there is an ethereal quality to it. The prominent shadows on her body indicate that Arthur had more than likely drawn the picture by lantern light late at night and it was probably quite recently.

She looks over to him, but he’s looking away, obviously embarrassed that he was caught with the risqué drawing. 

“Arthur,” she repeats, trying to get him to look at her. 

“I’m sorry, Emmeline,” he responds, still not looking up. “You just looked so- I don’t usually draw things like this,” he stutters out, obviously flustered.

She takes his chin in her hands and pulls his face up to finally look at her. When he sees her softly smiling face, he’s a little confused. 

He blinks a few times before saying anything. “You ain’t mad at me? For drawin’ ya like that?”

“No, Arthur. I like the way you draw me. And I like the way you  _ see _ me. It makes me feel wanted. Loved.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Besides, if I didn’t want you to see me disrobed, I wouldn’t do it in front of you.”

He smiles bashfully as his cheeks redden more. “I suppose that’s good to know.”

“However...” she takes the journal out of his hands, “I think it’s only fair that I get to draw you, too.” She opens it to a blank page and pulls the pencil from the binding, ready to start drawing. 

Arthur shakes his head. “You don’t wanna put my ugly face on the page.”

“You ain’t ugly,  _ Mr. Morgan _ ,” she asserts with a smile. “How any times do I have to tell you that?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at her with a sheepish smile. “A few more times wouldn’t hurt.”

As they continue to look at each other, she finds it hard to think  _ anyone _ would ever call him ugly, let alone himself. To her, he’s the most handsome man she’s ever seen and she can’t fathom there’s a better looking one out there.

She leans forward to give him a sweet kiss. “If there was a set of them cigarette cards for handsome men, you’d be number one.”

He throws his head back and laughs heartily, thinking the sentiment funny. When he looks back down, he’s ready to refute her claim, but she’s quick to shut him up with another kiss. This time, it doesn’t stay a sweet peck on this lips. The privacy of where they are spurs them both on to deepen the kiss, but both of them are unaware that someone is approaching.

“Ahem,” the unmistakable voice of Dutch Van Der Linde calls out from behind them.

Both Emmeline and Arthur back away from each other quickly and turn their heads to the older man.

“Hello, Dutch,” Emmeline calls out, hoping to get past the awkwardness of the situation. “Do you need something?”

“Arthur,” Dutch answers with a wave of his hand. “Come with me. I think we got a job.”

Arthur stands without a moment’s hesitation, then helps Emmeline to her feet. “Sure. What is it?”

Dutch quirks his head in the direction of the house. “We’ll discuss it back at camp.”

As the three of them walk back, Arthur can’t help but be excited. Even though he’s been more than happy to settle down a bit and get away from the outlaw jobs, there’s that part of him perking up that Dutch is asking him for help again. He’s actually more excited about the prospect of Dutch counting on him than doing whatever job he has lined up. Despite everything that’s happened over the last few months, Arthur can’t change the fact that there’s still a deep seeded need to have Dutch’s approval. That hasn’t changed since he was in his teen years. It’s what has made him such a good gunslinger, brawler, and rider. All those years wanting to hear “Good job, son” from Dutch have shaped the man he is today.

As the men continue on to the house, they part ways with Emmeline as she heads to the tents to help Tilly with the laundry. Once the men turn into what was the dining room, Arthur sees Lenny sitting at the old wooden table, apparently waiting for them to arrive.

Dutch holds his arm out to Lenny. “Our boy here has come to us with what has the potential to be a big score,” he explains enthusiastically. “It’ll be enough to finally get us out of here,” he adds wistfully.

Arthur doesn’t take a seat, but rather leans his shoulder on the nearby archway, facing Lenny. “So what’s this job?”

Lenny clears his throat and leans forward on the table before starting. “I was in Saint Denis waiting for the girls when I overheard some of the cops talking. One of them said he was being moved to patrol near the bank because they just moved a bunch of money from all over the state and stored it in the vault. He said they’re trying to keep it quiet so far, since they‘re waiting to get some military men in to guard it. Right now, there’s just a few extra policemen walking the street.”

Arthur listens to the young man eagerly at first, but the more he says, the more suspicious Arthur gets.

“See?” Dutch jumps in once Lenny has finished. “It’s an easy job. A bunch of money laid out for the taking,” he says gleefully. “It’s the  _ perfect score _ .”

Arthur finally pushes himself off the wall and walks closer to the table. “I don’t know, Dutch. It seems real risky.”

“There’s no risk if we hit it soon, before they call in reinforcements,” Dutch explains pointedly. He had hoped that Arthur would fall in line on this without question like he used to. 

Arthur shakes his head, looking away from the leader. “Don’t it seem  _ too _ easy? Too perfect?” He shakes his head. “And I remember more ‘n once Hosea tellin’ me the perfect score don’t exist.”

Dutch can’t hold back the look of disdain in his face. “That was when you was young and dumb, coming to us with jobs you’d need twenty men to pull off!” He lets out a huff, then wipes his hand down his face to calm himself. “This ain’t like that. We’ve caught the law unawares before. They can make mistakes.”

“I know they can, but this just seems too convenient, Dutch,” Arthur asserts. “Not too long ago, Sean and Bill overheard a rumor about them taking all the money  _ out _ of the Saint Denis bank in a train. They wanted to hit it, but I said no. It seemed like a setup to me. Like the Pinkertons was layin’ a trap just for us. Now we overhear that all kinds of money is just sitting in the bank with no one guarding it?” He lets out a huff. “Don’t that seem like an awful big coincidence? Like, we didn’t take the bait the first time so they’re tryin’ again?”

Dutch glares at Arthur for a moment before he turns to Lenny. “Will you give us a moment?”

Lenny looks between the two men before standing from his chair. “Sure, Dutch,” he replies, a little confused before heading to the door.

Once he leaves, Dutch turns back to Arthur. “When exactly did this happen?”

“What?” Arthur asks, not sure why that’s really important. 

“When did Sean and Bill come to you with that job?” Dutch almost growls out. 

“When you was...” he trails off, not knowing what to really say. 

“When I was  _ what _ ?” Dutch presses. 

“It was right after we got here. You wasn’t yourself, Dutch.” He can see the rage start to build behind the older man’s eyes. “I didn’t wanna bother you with it so I told them to back off from it.” When Dutch’s face seems to drop more, Arthur adds, “Look, that ain’t important. What’s important is us not fallin’ for this trap.”

“You think you know better than me, Arthur? What’s wrong with you?”

“Ain’t nothin’  _ wrong _ with me.”

“Then where’s your  _ faith _ in me?”

“I got faith in ya, Dutch. I just don’t wanna get killed.”

Dutch lets out a huff, but he tries to steady himself. “We’ll be  _ fine _ . We always are,” he tries to convince the younger man.

Arthur shakes his head. “There just too much to risk.”

“What are you talking about?! We ain’t got  _ nothing _ ! Food in our bellies, but that’s  _ it _ . And that won’t last! Especially if we have to winter here.” He goes over to Arthur and lays both hands on his shoulders. “We should have  _ more _ . We  _ could _ have more with this score.”

Arthur shakes his head again. “I can’t...”

“Why not? You’ve never had a problem before. You were  _ always _ the one I could count on,” he tries to persuade, thinking he has Arthur on the hook. 

“It ain’t...” He lets out a heavy breath, his mind conflicted. 

Dutch thinks he has him, though. Arthur never was too hard to convince. Sure, there were maybe a few times that the younger man had some doubts, but Dutch always knew what to say to get him on board with whatever he wanted. He figures he only has to say a few more words before Arthur jumps on board. “Come on, son.” He pats him on the cheek. “Once we got the money to get out of this godforsaken place, it’ll be like old times again. But in  _ Tahiti _ . We’ll make a new life there. A  _ better _ one. But we need this money for that to happen. It’s the only way, Arthur.”

Arthur stares at the man for a moment, thinking it all over. He could easily say yes, like he’s done a thousand times before. Dutch was always much smarter than him. He always led the gang straight before. Without Micah around, that is. And Micah  _ isn’t _ here, so maybe Dutch really does know better. But Arthur can’t seem to ignore the feeling of dread in his chest. 

Dutch sees the wheels turn behind Arthur’s eyes. Just as he’s is sure that Arthur is going to relent, the younger man says, “I’m gonna be a father, Dutch.”

Dutch instantly takes his hands off of him and takes a step back. 

Arthur continues despite Dutch’s reaction. “Emmeline... We’re gonna have a baby. And I don’t wanna get myself killed. I never cared much about it before; I never mattered. But I can’t leave her alone with a baby on the way. I can’t Dutch. I can’t take that risk. This job... it could lead to the rope. Easily.”

Dutch takes another step back but doesn’t say anything. 

Arthur still continues. “I ain’t really sure what we should do for money, but I know robbin’ the bank in Saint Denis ain’t how we should do it. Even if it ain’t a trap, they gonna know it was us after and the Pinkertons will be right on our tail. We’d hafta move again. And I don’t know where-“

Dutch suddenly lurches forward and swings at Arthur with all his might, punching him hard in the temple. It easily sends the younger man to the floor. Dazed, Arthur can’t even try to stand up before Dutch heaves him off the floor by the back of his collar and drags him to the front door. 

“What are you-“ is all Arthur gets out before he’s thrown off the front porch and onto the ground outside the house, catching everyone’s attention. 

“Arthur,” Dutch calls out to the gathering people, “has decided to leave us!”

“What?!” Arthur groans as he tries to right himself. He’s only vaguely aware of the gasps and murmurs of the rest of the gang around him.

“He will be leaving immediately!” Dutch further explains. “He doesn’t want to be a part of our family anymore!”

Everyone looks on in confusion, including Arthur. 

“I never said that!” he tries, but Dutch yells over him. 

“He thinks he’s  _ better _ than us!”

As soon as Emmeline rounds the house and comes upon the scene, she rushes over to Arthur, seeing that he’s unsteady in his feet as he’s still feeling the effects of the powerful blow to the head that Dutch delivered. “What’s going on?” she calls out once she reaches him. 

Before Arthur can answer, Dutch does. “Emmeline, come here.”

She doesn’t move from Arthur as she examines the blooming bruise on his cheekbone. “Are you alright?”

“Emmeline!” Dutch tries again. This time he’s successful in getting her to look at him. “Come here.”

She looks away from him and back to Arthur, her worry for the man outweighing everything else. “Are you alright?”

“Listen to your father!” Dutch booms and everyone’s eyes snap to him. “Say goodbye, darling,” he says more sweetly. “Arthur’s leaving.”

“What? No. If he leaves, I’m leaving, too,” she announces defiantly. 

Without hesitation, Dutch lunges forward and grabs Emmeline’s arm, harshly pulling her over to him. “I said come here!”

Arthur retaliates automatically, throwing his own fist into Dutch’s nose. It sends the older man reeling, but he doesn’t fall to the ground. Before Arthur can wind up again, Dutch pulls the pistol from his holster and points it right at Arthur’s head. 

Everyone, including Arthur is frozen in shock. He’s had a lot of guns pointed at his head, but none of them were being held by someone he thought he could trust with his life. 

“You gonna  _ shoot me _ , Dutch?” Arthur almost whispers. “After everything I’ve done for you?”

“Leave,” Dutch spits back. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

When Arthur doesn’t move to leave, Dutch tenses minutely. Before he can do anything he might regret, Hosea finally steps between the two men, in front of the gun, though he’s facing Arthur. 

“You need to leave,” he says calmly to the younger man, knowing that the situation will only escalate if Dutch and Arthur remain in the same place. “Take Emmeline with you.”

Dutch doesn’t object, but rather, holsters his gun and turns away to start walking back into the house. Before he gets to the door, he calls over his shoulder, “Emmeline, when you come to your senses and leave him, you’ll be welcomed back. You always will. You’re  _ family _ .” With that, he walks through the door and into the house calmly, like nothing had even happened. 

Arthur can’t even say anything, like his brain is two steps behind. It’s not until Hosea pats his chest that he snaps back to reality. 

Once Hosea has Arthur’s attention, he starts to speak. “It’ll only be a few days. I’ll talk some sense into him and we’ll come to bring you back.”

“I told him,” is all Arthur can say.

Hosea nods, though, knowing what he means. “He’s still not right, Arthur. I’ll talk to him while you’re gone.”

“But-“ Arthur starts, but Hosea doesn’t let him protest. 

“You and Emmeline need to leave now,” he insists. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

Still thoroughly confused, Arthur just nods, not wanting to fight it. When he looks over to Emmeline, she has tears in her eyes. She has no idea why Dutch kicked Arthur out, but she knows that she’ll never leave Arthur’s side. When she wordlessly takes his hand in her own, he realizes it, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still working on it! Motivation to write is hard for me right now, but I’m pushing through it. I’m also spending more time editing, so I hope that’s making a bit of a difference.  
> As always, thank you for reading!


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